


Twisted

by PennyKelly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anonymous Sex, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Magical Tattoos, Mental Health Issues, Scars, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-01-15 02:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyKelly/pseuds/PennyKelly
Summary: Less than a year following the final battle Hermione finds herself newly single and confessing her darkest secrets to the one man who may have more skeletons in his closet than she does. Will the twist in her align with the twist in him to create a less broken whole? Slow burn Fremione. Contains talk of self-harm and suicide. Ron bashing.





	1. Ex-Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This will be quite a bit different in tone from Tasting Fire. I wanted to explore some darker subject matter and try my hand at some slow burn relationship building. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Discussion of suicide and self-harm. Nothing graphic, but it is a plot point. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not profit from Harry Potter or its related properties in any way.

**Ex-Girlfriend**

Hermione’s stinging hex just missed Ron as he apparated into the bedroom. The force of the wayward spell exploded the water glass he’d left on her dresser that morning, making him jump back with a shout.

“Bloody hell, woman! What is your problem?!” he yelped.  
“You tell me Ronald Weasley!” she chucked the balled up negligee she’d been clutching to the floor between them. His ears flamed in realisation of what she’d found.  
“Hermione…” he pleaded, starting to cross toward her. She raised her wand and leveled it between his eyes. He stopped, holding his hands in front of his chest.  
“Don’t try and tell me it’s not what it looks like. I’m not stupid. Do I even want to know who?” she gritted her teeth, as she contemplated the merits of hexing him into oblivion.  
“Does it even really matter, ‘Mione?” he slumped, eyes not leaving her wand.  
“How long?” she bit out.  
“Six months.”  
“Six months? When I was in St. Mungo’s?” her face flamed with rage, her knuckles going white as she gripped her wand even tighter. Sparks began to jump from the tip.  
“We can talk about this. Just put the wand down, love,” he reached for her wrist, going for his own wand with his other hand. She called his wand to her quicker than he could blink.  
“You may be an Auror, but I will always be quicker on the draw.” She gripped both wands in her off hand, closing the distance between them with a solid smack across his face. He stumbled backward, staring at her in complete shock.  
“I want you out, Ron, now. Your things are with your mother. Have fun explaining to her what you did, because I sure as hell don’t want to hear it,” she tossed his wand back to him as his eyes widened in fear. No matter how old he got, she knew he would always fear Molly Weasley above all others. Moments later, he was gone. The reality of what had just happened hit her and she sank to the floor with a wail.

* * *

 

She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep on the floor when her eyes opened suddenly. They ached from crying and her cheeks itched with the trails of her tears. She reached out in the darkness to push herself up. Her hand landed on the offensive piece of satin and lace that had shattered the peace and quiet of her day. A knock sounded through the flat, breaking her fixation on the bright red lingerie. She realised the sound of knocking was what had stirred her, to begin with. Bunching the garment in her hand, she made her way to the door to see who was calling at this hour. She’d turned the floo off before Ron came home and the wards would not let anyone in who didn’t live there without her or Ron. She made a note in her mind to fix it so they would no longer recognize him, it was only her name on the lease after all. Any claim he had to it was void when she kicked him out. She wondered if he was stupid enough to try speaking to her again. When she looked through the peephole she was surprised to see Ginny fuming on the other side.

“Ginny?” she called through the door.  
“Open up, Hermione. Mum says I can’t kill him so I’ve come to check on you,” she responded hands on her hips.  
“I don’t really want company right now…” she croaked, tears starting again.  
“Look, ‘Mione, I know the wards will keep me from getting in, but I’m guessing you forgot Ron added Harry to them when we watched Crookshanks for you last summer. If you don’t want him in the middle of this, I suggest you open the bloody door. I have no qualms about dragging him away from work to let me in,” she threatened. Hermione kicked herself, she’d forgotten they’d left Harry on the wards after their trip in case of emergencies. The last thing she wanted was him showing up and trying to fix things. She opened the door begrudgingly and the fiery redhead bounded across the threshold, flinging her arms around her.

She sobbed as Ginny rocked her back and forth. She babbled incoherently into her shoulder, still clutching the cause of her troubles. Even she wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying in the fresh deluge of angry tears.  
“Wait, back up a second. You found what?” Ginny held Hermione at arm’s length.  
“This,” she sniffed, thrusting the fabric into her hands.  
“Bloody hell. Do you know who it belongs to? I don’t care if he’s my brother, I’ll kill him. I’ve got five others...”  
“No, and I don’t want to know who it belongs to. And you can’t kill your brother, your mum won’t let you,” she shook her head in disgust. Ginny crossed into the kitchen and tossed it into the sink.  
“Let’s burn it,” she suggested with a wicked grin.  
“How is that going to help, Gin?” Hermione choked on a laugh as she wiped the tears from her eyes again.  
“Probably won’t, but it can’t make you feel any worse,” she shrugged.  
“You’re right.” Hermione nodded and pulled her wand, casting an incendio in the direction of the sink. They watched as the fabric ignited and turned to ash over the course of several minutes.  
“Now what?” Hermione asked, sending the ashes swirling down the drain with a blast of water.  
“Now, you put on the sexiest dress you have and we go to the pub,” Ginny began to steer Hermione back to the bedroom.  
“Why do I have to dress up to go to the pub?” Hermione dragged her feet, not feeling much like getting dolled up.  
“We are going looking for your rebound. Or, at the very least, somebody to pay for your drinks tonight,” Ginny laughed at Hermione’s raised brows as she continued to drag her into the bedroom.  
“Gin, it’s only been a couple hours. All I want to do is scream and punch things. Maybe cry some more. I don’t want to be chatted up by random blokes in the pub,” Hermione argued. Ginny was digging through her closet, tossing options on the bed for her.  
“Right, well, how about you put on something that doesn’t look like you’ve been sobbing on the floor and we just go get pissed?” she changed tack, searching for a pair of jeans instead.  
“I wouldn’t mind a drink or two…” Hermione admitted with a sigh.  
“That’s my girl!” Ginny threw her arms around her again, jeans and a top tossed over her arm.

* * *

 

Hermione refused Ginny’s offer to fix her hair and makeup before they made their way to The Leaky Cauldron. She didn’t feel like looking cute or approachable. She could pay for her own drinks thank you very much. Ginny didn’t push the issue for a change, insisting only that she change into something other than her now rumpled and tear-stained work clothes. Hermione had to admit that her friend had managed to select her favourite pair of dark wash jeans and the softest grey tee shirt she owned. If nothing else, she would be incredibly comfortable while she drank away her broken heart. The pub wasn’t too terribly crowded when they arrived. They were able to quickly acquire their drinks and settle in at a table in the back. It was well past the dinner rush now, being near to nine o’clock. The only people remaining this late on a Thursday were the regulars.

“Thanks for dragging me out, Gin,” Hermione tried to smile as she took a long pull from the whiskey sour in her hand.  
“I couldn’t very well let you sit there and cry all night. If you don’t want to be alone, I can stay with you tonight if you’d like. I’d bring you back to the Burrow, but that’s where Ron is.”  
“How did your mum take it? I feel a bit bad for just sending everything over with a post owl, but I didn’t think I could face her,” Hermione admitted with a grimace.  
“Ron will be lucky if he’s got any hearing left by the time she’s done with him. Your note was pretty clear as to why you were kicking him out. When mum’s finished tearing his head off dad will have a go,” Ginny relayed, barely hiding her happiness at her brother’s torment.  
“Arthur? Your dad never yells…” she started, setting her drink back on the table.  
“He raised his sons to be gentlemen and cheating is not gentlemanly behavior. Dad doesn’t get well and truly angry about much, but this will do it.” They sat in silence for a few moments, neither exactly sure what to say next.  
“I think I knew before I found that negligee,” Hermione whispered.  
“What do you mean?” Ginny reached across the table and put her hand on Hermione’s wrist.  
“There have been signs for a while now. I just didn’t have concrete proof. He said it had been going on for the last six months. I started to suspect something about two months ago,” she sighed heavily and drained her glass with a frown.  
“Six months? Weren’t you in St. Mungo’s then?” Ginny’s face was glowing with rage again.  
“It was right after… well, you know,” she shrugged.  
“You never really told us how your accident happened, actually… But that’s beside the point right now. He was cheating on you while you were in the hospital, that’s pretty low. Even for someone as emotionally stunted as my brother,” she growled. Hermione scoffed at the statement and rose to fetch herself another drink.

As she waited for the publican’s attention she tried not to think about how things with Ron had gone so terribly wrong. She sighed heavily to herself and leaned on her forearms against the bar.  
“Well hello, Granger! What brings you here this evening?” Hermione startled and turned to see George making his way to her, a quick glance back at the table showed that Fred had already spotted Ginny and made his way to join her.  
“Your prat of a youngest brother.”  
“What did ickle Ronniekins do this time?” George teased.  
“He cheated on me.” she sighed heavily, avoiding his eyes.  
“He what?!” Hermione spun to see Fred standing at the table in shock, his eyes darting between her and his sister.  
“For Merlin’s sake…” she grumbled, hanging her head in embarrassment as the other patrons looked at her curiously.  
“I think, ‘Mione, this discussion needs a bit more privacy. We’ve got a couple bottles back at the flat if you and Ginny want to come back to ours.” George offered.  
“That might not be a bad idea, actually. I’m not keen on everyone overhearing my personal business. And I suppose you and Fred should know what’s happened before you see your mother next.”  
“Right then. Oi! Freddie, Gin!” George signaled that it was time to go. Ginny downed the last of her drink, ignoring Fred’s barrage of questions as they all exited the pub.

The walk back to the twins’ flat was an easy one and it wasn’t long before they were gathered around the kitchen island with fresh drinks in hand.  
“Want us to kill him for you?” Fred offered.  
“We won’t even charge…” George added with a wistful expression on his face.  
“Why does everyone always jump to killing Ron?” Hermione giggled.  
“He’s the least favourite brother these days,” Ginny grumbled, adding a bit more whiskey to her glass.  
“Ginny!” Hermione gasped, swatting at her.  
“What? It’s true!” She put one hand on her cocked hip and leveled a look at Hermione.  
“You can’t have a favourite and least favourite brother!” Hermione shook her head in disbelief.  
“‘Course I can. Least favourite changes pretty regularly though, always has. Used to be Percy, right now it’s Ron.”  
“Who’s your favourite then?” Hermione gave in with a chuckle.  
“Charlie.” The twins chorused before she could answer.  
“You’re not meant to know that!” her cheeks flushed as she sheepishly regarded her brothers.  
“It’s alright, Gin. Charlie’s been your favourite since you were tiny. Though, we think you mixed him and Bill up for a couple years…” George explained.  
“Only because they were at school so much when she was little. When they were home for hols she was Charlie’s little shadow. Made him barmy.” Fred grinned, tilting his glass in her direction.  
“Here I thought you’d be hurt if you weren’t the favourites.” The twins laughed in response, clearly not bothered even a little bit by the thought.  
“What about you two then, who’s your favourite brother, besides each other?” Hermione asked, brows knit in thought.  
“Bill.” They answered in unison again.  
“Why Bill?” she looked from twin to twin, confused by the choice.  
“Who do you think brought us home our first poppers?” Fred laughed.  
“Plus he’s got that earring…” George added on, gesturing to his own good ear.  
“...he is the prettiest of our brothers, even part werewolf.” Fred tacked on, picking up the bottle from the counter and leading the group across to the sofa and armchairs.  
“I think I get the picture.” Hermione laughed as she settled onto one end of the sofa, balancing her glass on the arm carefully. George and Ginny each pulled up an armchair with Fred settling on the other arm.  
“Who’s your favourite brother now that you and our dimwitted younger brother are on the outs?” George asked with an impish grin.  
“Ron was never my favourite.” Hermione shrugged, taking a sip from her glass.  
“Really?” Fred regarded her curiously.  
“Who is it then?” Ginny pressed.  
“You never did tell me which older brother you fancied most.” Ginny balanced her elbows on her knees and swirled the ice in her glass, considering. Hermione laughed at her serious expression.  
“Think you can guess?” she laughed lightly at the three gingers in deep thought.  
“Give us a clue?” Fred asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
“I’ll give you three guesses and a new clue with each guess. First clue, he’s great with charms work.”  
“Not Charlie then, always been bollocks with Charms…” George pointed out.  
“Is it Perce? He’s got a NEWT in Charms.” Ginny guessed.  
“No, it’s not Percy. Second clue, he was there when we polyjuiced as Harry,” she crossed her arms around herself smugly.  
“Definitely not Charlie then.” Ginny supplied.  
“Is it Bill? He’s good with charms and was there that night.” Fred guessed. Hermione shook her head.  
“That just leaves one of us then.” George grinned, winking at her.  
“That it does. Last clue, he’s why Ron is afraid of spiders.”  
“That’s me then! I didn’t know I was your favourite, Granger. Is it my devilish good looks or my charming sense of humour that got you?” Fred raised his arms in victory, looking much like the cat who’d caught the canary.  
“Honestly. You’re an identical twin. And you’ve both got the same sense of humour,” she rolled her eyes in his general direction.  
“Tell us, love, why is Fred your favourite of the two of us if we’re so much alike?” George pressed.  
“Yeah, ‘Mione, why Fred and not George?” Ginny gestured between her two brothers.  
“S’not because I’ve got both my ears still is it?” Fred joked.  
“It’s nothing to do with your ears.” She sighed and sat up a little straighter, taking a long pull of her drink.  
“If you really want to know it’s because you gave me that bruise paste when your punching telescope got me. Anyone else would have let me walk around like that for days thinking it was funny,” she smiled softly in his direction.  
“George would have given it to you, I just saw you first.” Fred shrugged, returning her smile all the same.  
“Didn’t you give her a Daydream Charm too?” Ginny asked, breaking the silence between them.  
“Yeah, she said the magic was ‘extraordinary’,” his cheeks pinked at the memory.  
“I don’t suppose it was my handsome twin that you dreamed of instead of ickle Ronniekins?” George teased. Hermione brought her drink to her lips quickly and drained it, trying to mask the growing flush of her cheeks with the glass.  
“Can we change the subject, please?” Hermione pleaded, reaching for the whiskey bottle to refill her glass, cheeks still noticeably pink. She was met with a light giggle from Ginny who eventually took pity on her flustered friend.  
“You’d be proud, got her to burn something today for purely therapeutic purposes. Barely had to even talk her into it!”  
“Cor! What’d you set aflame, Granger?” George’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.  
“A negligee that Ron’s… what would you call her, Gin?”  
“Slag? Homewrecker? Trollop?”  
“Point is, she left it behind and I found it. Burned it up in the kitchen sink.” Hermione downed her drink in one, pouring another.  
“Might want to slow it down a bit…” Fred took the bottle from her gently and set it back on the coffee table.  
“This is my pity party. If I want to drink myself into a stupor I’ll bloody well do it. That arse… after all this time,” she grumbled.  
“Do you know who it was? Want us to send her some Canary Creams?” George asked.  
“No idea. Don’t much care. Does it really make a difference who it was? After all the time I spent waiting for him to get his act together? Back at school and when he went into Auror training. Ran myself ragged rearranging my schedule around him just so we could see each other more. Moved him into my flat and everything, then he goes and does this…” angry tears pricked at the back of her eyes, a dark look coming across her face.  
“How long?” Fred asked, quietly.  
“Six months I think. Pretty sure it started when I was still in St. Mungo’s,” she slumped back onto the couch, clenching her glass tighter than necessary.  
“After your potions accident? You almost bleedin’ died! And he was off with some other bird?” George jumped to his feet in indignation.  
“You sure you don’t want us to kill him?” Ginny cut in before George could ask.  
“I appreciate the thought, but no. I think your mum and dad will have him pretty well in hand by now.” Hermione laughed darkly. The room sat in awkward silence as she drained her glass and set it on the table.  
“If I’m honest? I’m not exactly surprised. I kind of always knew I’d end up his ex-girlfriend,” she sighed heavily, a look of defeat crossing her face as tears started to flow.  
“What makes you say that you seemed to be doing alright until this?” George asked with a slight shake of his head.  
“You shouldn’t have to fight so hard to keep things just ‘alright’. We spent more time trying to have a relationship than we actually did in the relationship. I’m not shocked he stepped out, we weren’t even sleeping together at the end.”  
“Oh, Hermione…” Ginny crossed to her and wrapped her in a hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head. It was only a matter of seconds before she felt the pressure of Fred and George joining the hug, none of them speaking.

* * *

 

Several hours later Hermione found herself sitting on the couch and staring into the flames of the floo Ginny had departed through. She swirled the last of the whiskey around the bottom of her glass, absently wondering just how she’d gotten to this point. George had excused himself to bed already, leaving her and Fred in the two a.m. quiet. His head was resting on her thigh as he told her tales of product testing gone wrong. She was only half listening, her thoughts elsewhere. She emptied her glass and set it on the floor, not wanting to shift him to reach the coffee table. She unconsciously began to run her fingers through his hair, the soft sliding of the ginger strands through her fingers oddly comforting. He sighed contentedly at the attention, losing the thread of his story as she continued to play with his hair. She glanced down at his face and saw a soft smile there, her own lips quirking slightly. She resisted the urge to smooth the back of her hand down the side of his face. She let her mind wander over the last six months, trying to pinpoint the exact moment she truly knew her relationship was over.

“Fred?” she whispered, the need to share her thoughts with someone suddenly urgent.  
“Hmmm,” his soft eyes opening to lock onto her sad ones.  
“Can I tell you a secret?” She worried her bottom lip, debating exactly how to broach the subject she had in mind.  
“Sure,” his brows knit in confusion.  
“You can’t tell anyone. Except for George, I guess, because you’ll tell him even if I ask you not to.”  
“If you really don’t want me to I won’t.” She readjusted pulling her knees to her chest and turning to face him as he sat up on the couch next to her.  
“I’d prefer if as few people as possible know what I’m about to tell you.”  
“Alright,” he nodded, his face going serious.  
“It wasn’t an accident,” her voice was so low she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her at all.  
“What wasn’t?”  
“Six months ago. It wasn’t an accident...” she looked away from him, her cheeks aflame.  
“What are you trying to say?” he urged, setting a hand on her crossed arms.  
“I didn’t mess up the ingredients for the potion. I’m the brightest witch of the age, Fred, I didn’t mix up the vials.” She scoffed and shook her head at the story she’d told everyone months ago. He stared at her in surprise for several long moments, his eyes rapidly searching hers for answers.  
“You… were you…Hermione, were you trying to kill yourself?” he stumbled over the words. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes as she slowly nodded her head.  
“Now I really am going to kill him. Did he know?” Fred tightened his grip on her arm unconsciously, his body tensing in anger. He turned away from her for a moment, collecting himself before turning back.  
“I don’t think so. I think Harry suspected something wasn’t quite right with the story, but Ron didn’t catch on.” His eyes locked on hers again, filled with the depths of numbing despair that she knew from staring at her own reflection. Suddenly, she felt herself begin to cry. To his credit, Fred did not shy away from the display like Ron would have done, he pulled her to his chest and held her there without saying a word.

Her body slowly became racked with sobs, the floodgates from the past several months opening at the kindness. She had cried over Ron on and off all night, but in six months she had not allowed herself to cry over her own pain. The pain he’d been too blind to see, the pain that had driven her to make an attempt on her own life. Fred didn’t offer the empty platitudes or concerned murmurings she was expecting, just held her without speaking. It took several moments for her to realize some of the choked sobs were not her own. She clung harder to him, realising he had likely hidden the severity of his own struggle for just as long as she had. She had suspected some of his own injuries since the final battle were not shop accidents, but his own attempts at controlling his pain. Her body shuddered as her tears began to subside, pulling herself from his arms. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks as he rubbed his own face with his sleeve.

“Hermione?” his voice was thick with emotion as he addressed her.  
“Yes?”  
“I’ve tried it too. Couple times. Only George knows.”  
“I thought you might have done,” she admitted.  
“How did you know?” He sat up a little straighter, trying to figure out how she could have figured it out. She reached out for his left arm and unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, rolling it to above his elbow. She ran her fingers gently over the bright white scar that ran down the length.  
“Caught sight of this. That’s no shop accident, that’s self-inflicted. You didn’t go to St. Mungo’s though if you had the scar wouldn’t look like that. They would have treated it with dittany, but you didn’t go because they would have asked questions. George healed it for you.” He nodded at her explanation, watching as she traced the scar again.  
“I tried to use my wand as a blade. George found me before I’d bled enough to do any permanent damage. He healed me himself, afraid that St. Mungo’s would have me committed. He won’t leave me alone anymore. Thinks I’m still trying to bump myself off.”  
“Are you still trying to?” She rolled his sleeve back down and held his hand in between hers.  
“I think about it sometimes, but I haven’t tried since that first time,” he shrugged. She nodded her head and smiled at him, the emotion not completely reaching her eyes.  
“Do you still think about it?” He asked.  
“Depends on the day. I’m okay most of the time and don’t dwell on it,” she explained, beginning to play with his hand.  
“And the rest of the time?” he pressed.  
“The rest of the time I’m not so sure. I haven’t tried anything since then…” she bit her lip as she shook her head.  
They sat in silence again, she continued to turn his hand over in hers; gently stroking the fingers and twining them with her own.  
“Fred?” She looked up at him again.  
“Hmm?” He took his eyes off what she was doing with his hand and sought out her eyes again.  
“I’m glad George caught you. This world would be so much darker without you,” she squeezed his hand in hers before setting it back on his knee.  
“I’m glad too. It’s not often the brightest witch of the age fails, but you did when it mattered. My idiot brother may not have seen what was going on with you, but he was smart enough to get you to the hospital that night.” He tangled his right hand in her hair and leaned her forward so he could leave a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He released her and made to stand, running his palms over his knees.  
“Do you want to take my bed and I’ll take the couch?”  
“I’d rather if we could just sit here, I don’t think I’ll get much sleep tonight. My body is tired, but...”  
“Your mind is still running?” She nodded and he settled back into the cushions, pulling her over to lean against him.  
“It’s your turn anyway,” he teased, running his fingers through her hair.  
“And you wonder why you’re my favourite Weasley.” He chuckled and they sat in silence, watching the flames flicker in the grate.


	2. Miss the Misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Today is Mental Health Awareness Day where I live, so I’ve decided to post chapter two early in recognition. The struggles of the characters in this story are obstacles many deal with on a regular basis. This story is dedicated to them. 
> 
> Warning: Contains discussion of self-harm and suicide. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

**Miss the Misery**

She tried to lose herself in the feeling of his fingers working their way carefully through her curls, but something was off in her mind. Something he’d said didn’t make sense...

“Everything ok?” he asked, concern settling onto his face when she suddenly tensed against him. She squirmed so that she could see his face.  
“You lied,” she started, her expression hardening as her eyes searched his.  
“Wait, what? What did I lie about?” he furrowed his brows, baffled.  
“You said you hadn’t tried since the first time…” He shook his head, not following.  
“Before that, you said you’d tried a ‘couple times’. You can’t have tried it a couple times if when George caught you was the only time.” She began to pull away from him, but he stilled her movement with a hand on her shoulder. He swallowed, his eyes rapidly darting across her face before he spoke.  
“George doesn’t know about the other times. I couldn’t go through with it the first two times. I had everything set and then… I couldn’t do it. I’m so used to lying to George about it, everything sort of just tumbled out. I didn’t even realise I’d been lying,” his voice was so quiet she could hear his heartbeat through his chest louder than the words leaving his lips.

A long silence settled between them as she lost herself in picking apart the emotions in his eyes. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, as she exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“I’m sorry I brought it up. It just wouldn’t stop playing in my mind,” she admitted.  
“I understand. If we’re going to talk about these things, we should be honest,” he exhaled loudly. He tightened his hold on her then, laying his cheek on top of her head.  
“I’m not entirely sure why I even brought it up. I just… suddenly I needed somebody to know. I was just analyzing everything that’s happened since the end of the war and I got this feeling in my chest... It felt.. It felt like if I didn’t say something, right then, it was going to eat me alive,” she took a deep breath and felt his arms shift to better encircle her.  
“Everything happened so fast with Ron...We were friends and then suddenly we were together. We never talked about it, it just sort of… happened. He went right into Auror training with Harry and I took that post at the Ministry… And for the first three months we barely saw each other, so he moved in. Then, I don’t really know what happened. Everything inside my head just fell apart, we took that holiday so I could relax. But it didn’t really change things. And then the potion… my failed attempt...and I shut him out. We fought constantly, to the point that we both were making excuses to not come home. Six months of nothing but fighting. Fighting and screaming at each other, but never saying anything. Then I was deep cleaning the flat and find that negligee... and I knew it was over. Before he even came home, I knew it was over.” She took a deep, shuddering breath as she fought back angry tears.  
“I attacked him you know? When he first came in the door. I was so angry that I missed. I did manage to disarm him though. I was so livid. After he left, I just curled into a ball on the floor and cried. Just thinking that they pulled me back for this? For him to cheat on me? To find out the whole thing started when I needed him most. Needed him to understand what I was going through. But he couldn’t see it and I couldn’t say it. So he brought someone else into our home, my home, and… and now it’s over. And now I’m acting like a proper arse, sobbing to you about all of this as if you don’t have your own problems. As if you didn’t just tell me that you’ve made your own attempts...”  
“You’re not being an arse, Hermione.”  
“I really am sorry though, Fred. You were both so kind by letting me come here when you didn’t have to. You could have left Ginny and I at Leaky and just had whatever fun you had been planning on.” She whimpered as she tried to sit up as he continued to hold her to him.  
“Don’t be sorry. I need this too. Need somebody to talk to about… about everything.”  
“Do you want to talk about what happened? You’ve listened to me this whole time…”  
“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow…” he sighed.  
“Do you think… do you think we could make a habit of this? Meeting and talking through it all? It might help. St. Mungo’s doesn’t have therapy the way they do in the Muggle world. It would be nice to have someone I can share things with without scaring them. I think it would be too much for Gin.”  
“Of course we can. All you have to do is ask.” He adjusted his hold on her, beginning to play with her hair again. She pulled at a loose thread on his shirt hem, idly twisting and untwisting it around her finger.  
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but I haven’t been this close to someone in a long time.” She sighed heavily, angling herself better into his side.  
“What about my brother? I know things were bad, but you were still sharing a bed.”  
“Ron doesn’t cuddle. He just sort of… lies there,” she scoffed.  
“Why does that not surprise me?” She could hear the disappointment in his voice.  
“I appreciate it, nonetheless.” she sighed sleepily.  
“Tell you what, anytime you want to snuggle? Even if you don’t want to talk, all you have to do is ask.”  
“Wouldn’t that be a bit awkward?” she laughed into his shirt.  
“No more awkward than admitting to me you tried to kill yourself. If you can do that, you can ask for a little touch comfort.” he chuckled. She thought for a moment, rolling the idea around in her mind and testing it out.  
“Alright.” she nodded and let herself enjoy the closeness of someone else.

* * *

 

It had been one week since Hermione had woken up at the twins’ flat, still curled into the warmth of a sleeping Fred. They’d made plans to meet again today and try to talk through some of what they both were struggling with. She’d tried speaking to someone at St. Mungo’s again about finding a therapist, but the entire concept seemed to be lost on the staff there. She considered trying a Muggle doctor but was afraid she’d slip and start talking about magic or a war the Muggle world had no knowledge of. She felt completely trapped in her own numbness, desperately searching for someone to pull her out again. She hoped speaking with Fred would help ease some of the burdens. Especially since he so obviously needed someone too.

Ron had made no attempts to contact her since leaving, not that it surprised her. He’d not denied what he’d done, in some small way she wondered if being found out had been a relief for him. To some extent, she had to admit, it was freeing for her. She’d made the decision to take some time off from the Ministry. Everyone seemed to be on eggshells around her, afraid she’d fall apart at any moment over the dissolution of her relationship. No one seemed to care how she was actually feeling about it. She hadn’t cried since the second day, accepting the reality that the relationship had been over a lot longer than the date of their breakup. She scowled at the now empty picture frames hanging on her living room wall. She’d taken all the ones of her and Ron and given them to Ginny for safe keeping, as much as she’d wanted to burn them or tear them to shreds. She hoped that, in time, she might be able to look at them again without feeling horrid.

She hated admitting to herself that while she did not miss Ron himself, there were things that she did miss. She missed the fighting and the screaming. The way her voice would be hoarse for days after sitting up and arguing all night. She missed the dull ache in her chest that preceded every needless battle. Pain and anger were her only reprieve from the numbness that had taken over her life after the battle. Without the tears and arguments, she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel again. She was lost in the thought, leaning against the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room when Fred appeared.

“Everything alright then?” He crossed to her, waving a hand over her eyes.  
“Yes, sorry Fred. I zoned out a bit there,” she tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  
“Want to talk about it? That is why I’m here.” He chuckled as he opened her fridge and helped himself to a butterbeer. Ordinarily, the presumption would have upset her, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.  
“I was just thinking how it’s unfortunate that the only things I miss about Ron are fighting with him. That can’t be healthy…” she sighed and accepted the second bottle of butterbeer he held.  
“Why do you suppose that is, Granger?” He leaned against the counter next to her, making no move to shift the conversation into the living room.  
“It’s the only time I can feel anything. When I’m angry or in pain. Happiness just seems so far away. Doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t make it stick. It feels so foreign…” she turned to gauge his reaction, wondering if he would understand.  
“I think I know what you’re talking about. Things will be okay for a bit and I’ll think I’m snapping out of it, but the happiness doesn’t last. Makes it bloody hard to work, I’ll tell you that much. Thankfully, when I really can’t fake it anymore, George will let me stay in the back and test product. Though I think he’s been inventing reasons for Verity or Lee to come check on me when I’m back there alone. He doesn’t trust me unsupervised.” He huffed and took a long drink.  
“Should he?” She asked, tentatively. He turned to lean his elbows on the counter as she tried to read the expressions flitting across his face. He hung his head for a moment and sighed.  
“Probably not. He knows what I’m thinking before I do sometimes, really inconvenient that.” He forced a laugh. Hermione turned onto her own elbows and leaned her head against his shoulder.  
“What are we supposed to do, Fred? When everything feels so heavy and the only thing that makes sense anymore is anger and pain? Where do we go from here?” she sighed.  
“I wish I knew.” They stood in silence for a few moments, a heaviness in the air. She could feel him tense next to her, an uneasiness rolling off him.  
“I find myself doing things I shouldn’t sometimes. Things that wouldn’t be considered constructive when you’re trying to convince someone that you’re not trying to kill yourself. I think George knows, but he hasn’t caught me at it so he can only assume.” He admitted in a tumble of words.  
“Like what?” She moved to try and see his face.  
“Hurting myself on purpose. Not enough to really damage anything, just enough to feel something for a few moments. Then, I heal it all back up. I’m getting shockingly good with healing magic.”  
“Oh Fred, you really shouldn’t do that… What if you can’t stop? What if you…” The fear in her voice surprised him. He turned to look at her, brow furrowed.  
“Tried to kill myself again? I wonder about it too sometimes, whether the temptation to cut just a little bit deeper will be too much one day. That the little moments of release won’t be enough anymore. I really don’t know, Hermione.” She reached over and grabbed his wrist, squeezing harder than she’d meant to.  
“Next time you feel like hurting yourself, will you tell me? Floo, owl, however, you’ve got to do it. Please?”  
“I can try. I can’t promise you anything. I think you know that even if I say I’ll never do it again that it’s meaningless. I don’t know where my head is from day to day. Sometimes everything is okay, and other times it’s not.”  
“I know. But if I can help, I want to. Just coming here today you’re helping me immensely, it’s the least I can do.” She let go of his hand and made her way to the sofa.

He lingered at the counter, watching her and turning her words over in his head. Eventually, he followed and took the seat next to her.

“When did it start for you?” He asked, settling into the cushions.  
“I imagine around the same time it did for you. During the war…”  
“But, when specifically during the war?”  
“Shortly after Malfoy Manor,” she ran her fingers over the scar on her arm.  
“Did you ever tell anyone what happened to you there? I know Harry and Ron heard part of it, but did you ever talk to anyone about it?”  
“I had to tell the healers about it so they could treat me. Bellatrix hit me with the Cruciatus Curse over and over again. She had this awful silver knife, it must have been cursed. I’ll have this for the rest of my life because of it. I passed out at one point, I think she was planning on giving me to Greyback. I could hear Ron screaming and all I could think about was protecting him and Harry. I didn’t break. Even in the end when I was certain she was going to kill me, I didn’t break.” Her jaw tightened, the rage spilling over her.  
“Of course you didn’t. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” Fred whispered, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. She stared at the way his so entirely covered hers and the slur hidden beneath it.  
“I still have nightmares about it sometimes. She’s dead and I still dream about her finding me again and finishing me off. I dream about Greyback tearing me to pieces…”  
“They can’t hurt you again, Hermione. You know that…”  
“I know. Sometimes I wonder if the torture messed up my mind and that’s why I can’t feel things normally anymore. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d broken. If they’d have killed me outright so I wouldn’t have to live like this…” her voice trailed off into nothing as she stared at their hands.  
“It started for me after I got back from St. Mungo’s. I don’t remember much of the battle, a blessing in disguise I think. All I remember is waking up in the hospital and everyone thinking I was going to die. I feel guilty sometimes, that I survived and wish I hadn’t. I haven’t been able to figure out why I feel like this. It doesn’t make any sense…”  
“Nothing triggers the thoughts?”  
“No, they just sort of happen…”  
“Do you think it’s to do with your injuries? Maybe something didn’t heal quite right?”  
“Could be. I’ve been too afraid to ask anyone, I keep thinking they’ll lock me up for good. I’d rather be out here and miserable than carted away forever.”  
“It might be worth looking into Fred, maybe there is a way to help you.”  
“Maybe.” He sighed heavily and pulled his hand away.

They sat in awkward silence, neither looking at each other. The sound of the clock in the kitchen counting off the seconds. She shifted in her seat, pulling her leg up underneath herself. Her knee knocking against his seemed to break the tension as he reached out to rest a hand on her thigh with a smirk.

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we? You’d think they’d know how to handle all this, after the first war. Surely there were people who went through this before? Others going through it now?” He shook his head in disbelief.  
“I’ve been looking, there isn’t much information out there. I imagine people kept it within the family. A bit hard for me to do that given that mine is Muggle and residing on another continent still.”  
“Did today help at all?” he asked, hope colouring the edges of his words.  
“I’m not sure yet, but I think we should keep meeting and talking about things. I’ll keep researching how people dealt with the aftermath of the war before. Maybe there’s a support group or something.”  
“I think I should be going. I didn’t tell George where I was going and if I’m gone too long he’ll panic.” Fred stood and straightened himself out.  
“Okay. Thanks for coming today, no matter how short a visit.”  
“Thank you for making me. I really do hope this could help both of us, Hermione. I don’t want to live like this.” He leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. She squeezed back as hard as she could, trying to send whatever comfort she could from her body to his. She watched as he left through the flames again, leaving her to contemplate what to do next.


	3. Life of the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I hope everyone had a decent week. I’m going to be starting a new job on Tuesday so my writing schedule is about to change. I’m trying to get everything update through the weekend to make sure nothing sits for too long. I may update Twisted for grammar/spelling mistakes, but will not be changing anything content wise. Title is a song by All Time Low.
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> Warning: Contains discussion of self-harm and suicide. Smut.
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> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

**Life of the Party**

A million thoughts raced through her mind as the alcohol and adrenaline fogged her senses. A Muggle rock song drowned out the sound of everyone else in the bar. The petite witch felt her back hit the cold wall of the loo with a small groan. She couldn’t remember the name of the man she’d dragged in with her, but at the moment she didn’t much care. He kneaded her flesh through the skimpy dress and tried to catch her lips with his own. She ducked him, redirecting his attention to her neck and chest. A kiss may have started their encounter, but the taste of cigarettes on his tongue was nauseating. He nipped at her neck as he fumbled with the fly of his trousers. She arched into him and smirked when he reacted to her lack of knickers. She hiked up her skirt and wrapped her legs around him as he gained his footing, pinning her even harder against the wall. He entered her without preamble. The coupling was fast and rough, exactly what she needed tonight. Over almost as soon as it began, she was left huffing and puffing as he leaned his sweaty forehead against her chest.

“What was it you said your name was, again?” he asked, letting her slide back onto the floor. She adjusted her dress and smoothed her hair before exiting the dingy stall.

“I didn’t,” she whispered, pushing away from him and back into the crowded pub. She ignored his requests for her number and shoved her way to the front of the crowd, ducking around the corner into the alleyway. She made certain she was alone before disapparating with a loud “crack”.

Hermione arrived just outside the wards of the Burrow and swiftly made her way toward the inviting warmth that emanated from the place she had once considered a second home. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she sped toward the house, desperately trying to find a change of clothes in her beaded bag. She was disgusted with herself. Again. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she ducked behind a tree to wrestle herself into a pair of jeans and a singlet. She yanked a pullover on and continued to dig for her shoes. Not finding any, she stepped back into the too high heels. Ginny would appreciate them even if they seemed out of place for a family dinner. She chucked her dress into the bag and extracted a mirror to fix her face. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to punish herself for what she’d done. She wiped off the smeared mascara and applied a fresh coat of lipstick, forcing herself to calm. She was already late and she didn’t want Molly to worry.

She desperately hoped that Molly wouldn’t comment on the bags under her eyes or how pale she’d gotten. She loved the older woman, but she couldn’t handle the judgment tonight. They’d reached an uneasy peace over the last month, so long as she came to Sunday dinner Molly would not press her about trying to patch things up with Ron. She knew Hermione had not forgiven him for what he’d done. She got the feeling that the Weasley matriarch blamed her a little bit for what happened, even though there was nothing Hermione could have done to prevent it. She shook her head to push the thoughts from her mind, now wasn’t the time to relive that particular rollercoaster ride. She took a deep breath and tried to steel herself as the back door came into view.

It had taken some time to rebuild and settle back in, but the Weasleys had made the best of it. They made very few changes to the original layout of the home, choosing only to add another bedroom to soothe Molly’s constant concern of overcrowding during family holidays. Now that Bill was married it didn’t seem prudent for him, Fleur, and Charlie to stay in the oldest Weasley boys’ childhood bedroom. Not that it mattered much most nights. Ron had moved in with whoever the other woman had been, Hermione still didn’t want to know. Ginny was the only one still living at home, though she was fairly certain she has sneaking off to Harry’s with regularity.

Unlike her best girlfriend, who was planning to move in with her boyfriend as soon as possible and get on with her life after the war, Hermione had burned out not long after completing her NEWTs. She had been aimlessly adrift for months now. She couldn’t escape the oppressive numbness that had dogged her following the war. The inability to feel for long stretches at a time keeping her closed off from those that mattered most to her. Even if she could get excited about something, everything she did just felt much too public for her tastes. She wanted time to herself, the privacy of an anonymous citizen. She’d taken a desk job within the Ministry, but had often worked from home. She had realised over the last few weeks that that same need for privacy was ultimately what killed her chances with Ron. After being so consistently overshadowed by his brothers and his best friends, he was relishing his time in the limelight. He didn’t mind the frequent, and often inaccurate, write-ups in the Daily Prophet that speculated on his love life. She, however, had run headlong in the other direction. She needed privacy now and time away from the media circus. She couldn’t be the happy woman hanging from his arm, she didn’t have it in her. Though, if she was honest with herself, she never could have been that person for him. They’d been doomed from the start.

She’d buried the girl she once was the moment she went on the run. There was no moving backward, only forward. She didn’t know how to be this new person, this dark and moody creature that had replaced the vibrant and quick-witted teenager she’d once been. It felt like everyone else had moved on, except her. She still sat up most nights reliving the horrors she’d seen, still carried the little, beaded bag everywhere, still looked over her shoulder wherever she went, and still couldn’t fully communicate what was going on with her to anyone besides Fred. It was the blind leading the blind between the two of them. Their weekly talks had been helping a little, but neither had the knowledge of how to ease the pain of the other. She still woke up every morning and wondered if she would make it through the day. She knew he still entertained similar thoughts.

Her constant need to numb the pain of loneliness and silence the screams that echoed through her mind is how she’d ended up trolling the Muggle pubs for a quick release. When talking wouldn’t work and there was nothing to distract her from the darker side of her mind she put on the trashiest dress she could find and found a man she’d never speak to again to take her into the loo or against an alley wall. Nothing made her feel somehow the least and the most like herself. She knew it was a risky game she was playing, hiding her frequent late-night escapades and walling herself off from her friends. She knew Ginny and Molly had both noticed the dark circles under her eyes that even a glamour couldn’t seem to cover. She also knew that if she told them the truth they’d check her into St. Mungo’s. She didn’t think she was crazy, just self-destructive. She knew she needed help, but didn’t know how to explain what was going on with her. How to explain that the rough handling of her body by a man brought her the only sensation she’d felt in months in the form of a fleeting orgasm. She didn’t want that burden on them. She shook her head and forced a smile on her face, crossing through the backdoor into the light of the kitchen.

“Oh! Hermione, dear, I was just wondering where you were! Come in, dear girl, we’re just about to eat.” Molly hurried her to the table, seating her between Bill and Percy. To her great relief, both men were engaged in discussions with their partners and didn’t spare her more than a passing greeting. She couldn’t help but notice that she had been seated out of Ron’s line of sight, though she could hear him several seats to her left.

The kitchen table was particularly crowded this evening, with the Lupins and Sirius also in attendance. Even Charlie had made it back this particular evening, a rarity if it wasn’t a holiday or special occasion. She caught snippets of conversation amongst the guests and responded when directly addressed, otherwise keeping to herself. She occasionally could feel a set of eyes on her, assuming it was Molly or Ginny she did the best she could to not turn to that end of the table. When the feeling of being watched became too much she finally turned only to find Fred’s eyes staring back at her and not those of his mother or sister. She felt a slight blush creep up the back of her neck, but it did not reach her cheeks. She smiled weakly and gave him a slight nod. He frowned and subtly moved his hand to his neck, staring at her pointedly. She could feel the color drain from her face as she realised what he was indicating. She slipped away from the table and made her way upstairs to the washroom.

“I’m a bleedin’ idiot, how did I not notice this…” she growled under her breath at her reflection. Just under her right ear was a large purplish lovebite, unmistakably fresh. She didn’t even remember the man latching onto her neck, but he must have done. She fished out her wand and tried her best to remember the correct glamour to disguise it. She shook her head in a huff when nothing seemed to be working. She squeaked as the door slowly opened behind her.

“It’s just me…” Fred carefully closed the door and locked it like she should have done, to begin with. He moved to get a better look at her neck, cramming in next to her in front of the mirror.

“I can’t remember the charm to cover it.” She huffed. He reached over and trailed his fingers over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine as his eyes worked through a series of emotions.

“I know it…” He all but whispered the incantation at her, smirking when the mark disappeared.

“Thank you.” Her pulse pounded under where his fingers still touched her neck.

“Who was it? You haven’t mentioned seeing anyone.” He asked, voice slightly choked.

“I’m not. It was a one-time thing.” She answered, honestly. A blush creeping into her cheeks.

“Oh?” He asked, finally removing his fingers.

“There are some things I may not have mentioned the past few weeks.” She admitted, worrying her bottom lip out of anxiety.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice thick with something she couldn’t identify, still close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his chest.

“Not really. Not right now.” She whispered, his closeness making her squirm under his gaze.

“Later then?” He backed away from her as she nodded. He slipped quietly back out the door, leaving her to make sense of her pounding heart.

 

* * *

 

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Hermione had planned to beg off for the night but was stopped short by Harry.

“Stay a bit? Ron is leaving and I’ve missed you. I know Gin has too, we’ve barely heard from you recently.” He begged, pulling her to the living room with one arm around her shoulder.

“I suppose I could stay for a bit. It’s not like I’ve anywhere to be in the morning. I’m sorry I’ve not been more communicative Harry, this whole situation has been difficult to navigate.” She explained.

“I just don’t want you to forget that you’re my friend too. I’m here if you need to talk or want to grab lunch one day. I know you’re still taking time off since everything happened.” Harry settled the two of them onto the sofa, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze before settling his hands on his knees.

“I’m considering not returning. It’s not as if I need the income after the Order of Merlin money and I never felt completely comfortable there. I’d like to do something a bit more private, I just haven’t settled on what.” She admitted, trying to open up a little bit to her best friend.

“Oh? What were you thinking of doing instead?”

“I haven’t rightly decided, I just don’t want to be where there are so many reporters all the time. I had to cancel my subscription to The Prophet after my accident. I couldn’t take seeing our names in the paper anymore. I can’t believe they’ve not moved on…” she trailed off with a slight shake of her head.

“I just get the sports page at work. If there is something Ginny thinks I might be interested in she’ll save it for me. Otherwise, I’ve done away with it as well. They’ll move on eventually, we’re really not that interesting.” He laughed.

“Who says you’re not interesting?” Ginny flopped down next to Harry, reaching over to give Hermione’s thigh a pat in greeting.

“We were just talking about not getting The Prophet anymore.” He explained, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Oh, yes I really wish they would move on as well. The Quibbler is infinitely more interesting to me these days.”

“I do still get The Quibbler if only to support Luna. I don’t always read it though.” Hermione admitted with a guilty grimace. Her statement was followed by a chorus of laughter from her friends. The sound was a welcome one after so long of avoiding their company.

“Right then, what shall we do this evening? Unless you’d just like to chat?” Harry looked between the two women.

“We were considering heading down to the pitch for a bit of a night game.” Charlie interrupted, a Quaffle tucked under his arm. Hermione could see both Harry and Ginny light up at the possibility, it had been too long since either had been able to play.

“But Hermione…” Harry started, his smile fading as he remembered she didn’t play.

“Hermione has no problem watching and keeping score if you’d like.” She finished for him, making to stand.

“Are you sure? I can always sit this one out…” Harry pressed.

“It’s alright, Harry. I don’t mind watching for a bit.” She smiled at him and followed Charlie out the door.

The makeshift Quidditch pitch was illuminated by the moon and a few lights Arthur had managed to charm to work with magic instead of electricity. Hermione settled herself onto the grass with the scorecards, watching as Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, and Harry split into teams. Fleur had turned in early for the night, the early stages of pregnancy making her more tired than usual. Percy and Audrey had stayed behind to chat with his parents, never having been much for Quidditch despite the family fondness for the game. In the end, the teams ended up being Charlie, Fred, and Ginny against Bill, George, and Harry. Hermione tried to keep her focus on the gameplay as they zipped around overhead, the longer the game went on the more she found her mind wandering.

It wasn’t that she was bored by the game, she was truly enjoying the creativity of the taunts the twins hurled at one another and the stream of multilingual curses that could be heard from Bill and Charlie anytime a play didn’t go their way. She’d long since gotten over her distaste of foul language finding that, like most things, it had its place. A friendly family game of Quidditch amongst adults seemed like as good a place as any for someone to curse a blue streak. She made a mental note to ask Charlie what some of the more colorful sounding phrases meant, her knowledge of Romanian not particularly advanced. She couldn’t help but notice that Harry was having trouble concentrating on the game, his focus turning to Ginny anytime the beautiful redhead pulled off a new stunt on her broom. She wondered if Ginny might be doing it on purpose to distract him so Charlie had more of an opportunity to find the snitch. What had her mind wandering had nothing to do with the game, it was the way Fred had looked at her in the bathroom.

Her skin prickled at the memory of where he’d run his fingers along her neck earlier. He’d touched her plenty the past few weeks. She’d accepted early on that he was a toucher, not that it bothered her. He was forever reaching for her hand or wrapping an arm around her shoulders when their discussions got particularly emotional. It wasn’t often that they weren’t seated thigh to thigh on her couch at their sporadic meetings. When they were in a more public setting he still managed to lean his knee against hers or trail a hand across her back in passing. She’d been drawing comfort from the interactions as much as he had been. Even though Fred was often the one to initiate their contact, she was the one to prolong it. If he patted her leg, she grabbed his hand to keep it there. Whenever he put his arm around her shoulders on the couch she’d leaned further into him. Though he’d told her all she had to do was ask, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Despite how much she’d told him since that first night, she still felt awkward asking for comfort. The irony didn’t escape her. She had no problem pulling in a bar, but asking her friend for a hug was a toe too far over the line. She shook her head at her own ridiculousness, refocusing on the game overhead.

The lack of whooping or bragging told her she probably hadn’t missed a score over the last few minutes. She wasn’t entirely certain how they’d broken up the positions as everyone seemed to be playing every position to some extent, though only Harry and Charlie seemed to be looking for the tiny gold ball that would end the game. Her eyes flitted from player to player, admiring the differences in their skills and envying the looks of joy on their faces. No matter who she was trying to follow, her eyes kept wandering back to Fred. There was something not totally sincere about the smile on his face, even from this distance she could see it. She also noted that he’d not rolled his sleeves up like everyone else had. She made a mental note to ask him about it in private. She was fairly certain she knew why, but she wanted to hear it from him.

The game went on for a little while longer, ultimately ending with Charlie catching the snitch in an impressive barrel roll. She’d not seen anything so dangerously graceful outside of professional Quidditch, though she did know he’d had the talent to play professionally should he have wanted to. One by one her friends came back to earth, sweaty and smiling.

“Wasn’t that something?” Charlie pulled her up from the ground and spun her enthusiastically.

“Put me down!” She squeaked, swatting at his shoulder. He spun her again with a laugh before placing her on her feet.

“Thanks for keeping score,” Bill said, patting her on the back as he passed. He didn’t wait for a response, inserting himself into a discussion between Ginny and Harry and heading back toward the house. George was speaking animatedly with Charlie further ahead, leaving her to help Fred put the gear back in the broom shed.

“Did they even offer to help?” She asked, somewhat miffed as she relieved him of half the brooms.

“I offered. I wanted some time away from all the chatter.” He shrugged, levitating the ball chest and scorecards ahead of him. He neatly slid everything back onto the shelves, turning each broom over in his hands carefully and inspecting it before putting it up. He stopped when he got to the one Ginny had been using and set it across the workbench.

“What’s wrong with it?” Hermione asked, curious as to why this broom, in particular, had caught his eye.

“The tail needs a bit of clipping.” He explained, showing her where a few twigs had worked themselves out of the bundle.

She watched him as he cautiously trimmed the twigs, checking and double checking that it had been done correctly. After he’d finished, he began to polish the handle until it shone before trading it for another broom on the wall. She pushed herself up onto the work surface and crossed her legs under herself as she followed the movement of his hands. She didn’t know how to properly care for a broom, never having gotten over her discomfort with flying.

“Fred, can I see your arms?” She asked, reaching out to still his hands. He looked at her with a flicker of guilt behind his brown eyes. His gaze flicked to the shed door, making sure no one else was within earshot before he sighed and unbuttoned his cuffs.

She waited for him to roll up both sides before taking both his wrists in her hands. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first until she saw that the long white scar that should have been on his left arm was missing.

“Do you want to undo the glamour, or shall I?” She sighed, locking her exasperated eyes on his. Begrudgingly, he wandlessly released the spellwork.

“Oh, Fred…” she gasped, seeing the faint lines of where several cuts had not been healed properly. She gingerly ran her fingers over them, wondering if it was too late to try a bit of dittany.

“I didn’t mean to do it. I was pretty drunk last night and I didn’t want to bother you…”

“Stop right there. You aren’t bothering me, I don’t care how late it is or how drunk you are.” She chastised, running her fingers over the marks again. Before she could stop herself she leaned over and kissed the skin, covering the scars with her palm after.

“Hermione…” He started, swallowing hard as the top of his ears pinked.

“Wait. Before you say what I think you’re going to, I need to tell you something.” Her stomach clenched at the change in energy that wafted off him.

“Okay.” He put his right hand over hers on his arm, not breaking eye contact.

“I’ve been going to Muggle London.” She chewed the inside of her lip, unsure of how to continue.

“What’s so odd about that?” He smirked at her.

“I’ve been going to pubs.”  He cocked his head in confusion, a questioning look crossing his face.

“Alone. That’s how I got…” She exposed her neck to him, knowing that the marks were no longer visible but hoping he’d get her meaning.

“Have you been shagging complete strangers?” His voice was thick with concern.

“Yes.” She whispered

“Why? That doesn’t sound like you at all, Hermione. And Muggles? That could be dangerous if they saw your wand or…”

“Trust me, Fred, I’m very much aware of what a bad idea this all is.” She bit out, harsher than she’d intended.

“Then why do it?” He pressed.

“It’s the only time I feel alive anymore. When I’m so numb I don’t think I could ever feel again? Being taken roughly and the way all the built-up tension in my body releases… Sometimes it’s the only pleasurable thing I can feel for days.” Her words were tense and she struggled to force them out.

“I really don’t like the idea of you going out alone like that, what if something were to happen to you?” He shook his head firmly, anger building in his tone.

“I know you’re right, it’s just… I feel like I need this right now. If it’s keeping me from doing something worse, it can’t be all that bad, right?” She tried, lamely.

“You know that’s not healthy thinking, ‘Mione.” He whispered, moving his hand to cup her face.

“I just don’t know what to do.” She could feel a tear escape and begin to roll down her cheek. The silence seemed to drag out between them at her admission. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, her heartbeat racing again in the awkward tension.

A few moments later she felt him shift, moving his other hand to tangle in her hair. Her eyes began to flutter open as he pressed his lips gently to her forehead. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact. Her body ached from the inside out at the gentleness as he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks and pulled away.

“I can’t say I’m okay with what you’re doing, but I’m not going to yell at you… As much as I may want to.” He spoke to her softly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Fred, what were you going to say before?” She watched the way he broke eye contact, running an answer over in his mind.

“I don’t remember.” He lied. She didn’t push it, she was pretty sure it was a discussion neither of them was prepared for right now.

“We should head back, they’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten off to.” She slid back to the floor, leaving him to lock up the shed.

 

She didn’t think they’d been gone that long when she reappeared in the living room, but most everyone seemed to have departed for the evening.

“Everything alright?” George asked, seeing the tired look on her face.

“Everything is fine, Fred was just showing me how to service the brooms. The one Ginny had needed a bit of upkeep.” She stood awkwardly between the coffee table and an armchair, not actually wanting to sit but unsure if she could bow out for the evening.

“Bill went to check on Fleur and Charlie had to get back before it got too late to get an international floo. Harry took Ginny for a walk, though I doubt that’s what they’re actually doing.” George smirked.

“Mum and dad already turn in?” Fred asked as he entered the room.

“Shortly after Perce and Audrey left.” George nodded.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the evening then?” Fred asked, perching on the arm of the couch furthest from Hermione.

“We’ve got to open the shop in the morning and I’m a bit behind on the books. I was going to head back to the flat and see about finishing them up before bed. Might have a butterbeer or two while I work. What did you have in mind?” George raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“I’m about ready for bed unless you wanted a hand with the ledger?” He asked, the exhaustion clearly written on his face when his smile faltered.

“I can give you a hand if you’d like? I’m not bad with numbers, and then Fred can get some sleep.” Hermione offered.

“I wouldn’t mind the company to be honest.” George stretched his arms over his head and turned to collect his coat from the back of the other armchair.

“Right then, shall we?” She asked as she crossed to the floo.

 

* * *

 

The twins kept surprisingly detailed records, it was becoming clearer to Hermione that George didn’t actually need any help. And his silence for the past half hour indicated that he might not have actually been looking for company in the endeavor. As the clock continued to tick by the minutes she exhaled heavily and set her hands over the ledger.

“George, it’s obvious you don’t need a hand with this and every time I look up you’re looking at me with a question on your face. What, exactly, is wrong?” Hermione accused.

“Nothing is wrong per se…” George leaned back in his chair, pushing the front feet off the floor and gripping the edge of the table.

“Care to be a little more specific?” She pressed.

“Fred goes missing sometimes at the oddest times of day. I was starting to get concerned about it because he doesn’t tell me where he goes. I set up one of the extendable ears the other day and heard him call out your flat when he got in the floo. Are you and my brother seeing each other?” He asked, his face serious as he set the chair back on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re not seeing each other, no. He does meet with me though, sometimes several times a week.” She was careful not to reveal anything with her answer.

“Why?” He looked completely confused by her answer.

“It’s not really my place to say. You’ll have to ask him if you want to know.” She shrugged, not wanting to betray Fred’s trust in her.

“It’s not normal for him not to tell me something.” He stated.

“George, you’re going to have to trust him on this. If you can’t trust him, trust me.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a mirror of his posture.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice if you’re not going to tell me.” He sighed and relaxed his posture to go back to work.

“Unless you actually need a hand, I’m going to head home.” She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.

“It’s alright. Thank you, Hermione. Even if you can’t tell me everything, it helps to know that he’s with you.” George sounded as exhausted as Hermione felt. All she could do was nod and tamp down the urge to tell him everything.


	4. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No specific warnings for this chapter.
> 
> AN: Hello readers, I’ve got a bit of a chest cold so I’m behind on everything again. Said chest cold also postponed my start date at the new job for a week or two because of training schedules, so I’ll actually be back on track fairly quickly. So I’m calling it a wash.
> 
> Shout outs to everyone who has commented! Twisted seems to have struck a chord with people rather quickly. I know the subject matter can be trying at times, thanks for sticking with it so far. 
> 
> For those who may be wondering, the songs I’ve used thus far are Ex-Girlfriend by No Doubt, Miss the Misery by Halestorm, Life of the Party by All Time Low, and Nightmares by All Time Low. If you’re following my other stories you might be seeing a lot of ATL, I’ve had their album Last Young Renegade playing on repeat for days. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

**Nightmares**

Hermione came to on the cold tile of her bathroom floor. The side of her face hurt where she was sure she’d collided with the sink on the way down. She pushed herself up into a seated position, leaning against the under sink cabinet. She had not meant to drink that much and she certainly had not meant to trip over her own feet and knock herself out. She vaguely wondered if she should have herself checked for a concussion. If you lost consciousness with a head injury that’s what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it? She groaned knowing that it was best for her to be examined by a professional and not risk anything more serious. For all she knew, she already had internal bleeding and was dying. She found the thought oddly satisfying, the great Hermione Granger killed by tripping over her feet in a drunken stupor. She laughed darkly at her line of thought and pulled herself further up off the ground onto the toilet. Realising she was a bit unsteady on her feet she wordlessly summoned her wand to her. That had to be a good sign. She could still perform some magic at least, and wordless/wandless magic was not easy. She summoned her Patronus and sent the familiar otter to fetch Fred. She was always vaguely surprised that she could still summon the thing, happy thoughts her not easy these days.

“Granger?” she heard through her floo not long after.  
“In the loo. I hit my head, I need help getting to my feet.” She called in response. Fred appeared a few seconds later, hand covering his eyes.  
“I’m dressed, Fred, you can look.” She huffed.  
“You said you were in the loo, how was I supposed to know what state of dress you were in? You could have fallen in the shower!” He justified, tips of his ears going pink.  
“And you thought I would send a Patronus to get you, but not summon a towel to cover myself?” she laughed slightly at the implication.  
“You weren’t exactly specific with your summons, ‘Mione. I came straight over, didn’t really stop to think about it.” He huffed.  
“Merlin, you’re still dressed for bed. What time is it?” She blushed furiously, taking in his bare chest and sweats.  
“Just after 4 a.m. What happened?” He kneeled in front of her, resting his hands on her bare knees. She had not realised that she was still in the altogether too skimpy dress she’d worn out that evening. Waking up in one was becoming too familiar an occurrence for her now.  
“I fell and hit my head. I think I might have a concussion…” she trailed off.  
“Right then, come on.” He lifted her easily into his arms, resisting her struggles.  
“Fred put me down!” she smacked at his shoulder.  
“Not a chance, what if you can’t walk? I’m not a healer.” He held her tighter as he stepped into the floo and called out St. Mungo’s.

The witch at admitting was startled at the sight of them, not at all expecting their odd states of dress.  
“How may I help you?” She asked, standing to see if Hermione was conscious in Fred’s arms.  
“She’s hit her head, might be concussed. I think she may have passed out before she called me.” He explained quickly. The woman nodded and scurried off through the door behind her, returning a moment later with a wheelchair.  
“You can set her down here and I’ll take her back to get checked. If you could fill these out and wait in the family lounge just over there?” She indicated with her head, handing Fred a clipboard and taking Hermione back into the patient only area.

Fred was surprised at how many questions he actually could answer on the forms. He hadn’t expected to know much besides her full name and birthdate, and even that had surprised him somewhat. He had some idea of her basic medical history from all the times she’d landed herself in the hospital wing during school, even if he didn’t know the exact treatments. He listed himself as her emergency contact, knowing that she didn’t have any family in the wizarding world. He skipped anything he wasn’t sure about, hoping that he’d provided enough information to appease them until she could fill in the blanks herself. He waited impatiently, bouncing his knees and trying to avoid eye contact with the other people waiting for news.

It was fairly empty, which he took to be a good sign. A lack of patients meant she would be seen quickly. His eyes darted around nervously, taking in the appearances of the others waiting. There was an older wizard in the corner flipping through an old copy of the Daily Prophet with a bright pink purse balanced on his knees. His wife’s, Fred guessed, and probably not all that serious if he wasn’t in the back with her. There were three women huddled by the door speaking in hushed excitement. He guessed they were likely friends of someone who’d gone into labour not long before. The balloons and flowers they held suggesting they expected news of a baby girl any moment now. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, swiveling to watch the empty side of the room. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, she’d been well enough to contact him for help it wasn't like she was dying.

“Mr. Weasley?” he looked up to see the same woman from admitting standing in the doorway. She was middle-aged with short brown hair and kind grey eyes. He crossed to her with the clipboard still clutched in his hands.  
“Yes?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, not wanting to betray the depth of his concern to a complete stranger.  
“She’ll be fine. No evidence of internal bleeding or damage. She’s got a bit of a black eye and some swelling on the side of her face where it looks like she may have collided with something. Do you know how the accident happened?” The woman was kind, but there was a tone to her voice that made Fred think she was accusing him of something.  
“I was home when I got word she was hurt and needed help getting to a healer. I didn’t ask her how it happened, I just brought her straight here.” He said defensively.  
“Do you know if anyone else was with her tonight?” The woman, whose name tag he noticed read ‘Doris’, continued.  
“I’m honestly not sure. She goes out alone sometimes, but so far as I know she’s never brought anyone back to her flat. Why? Did someone attack her?” He was getting agitated at the line of questioning. If someone had hurt her...  
“We just have to be sure. She says she fell and hit her face on the sink and that she was alone.” Her face softened as she saw the distress on his face, reaching out to give his forearm a gentle sympathetic squeeze.  
“Can I see her? Is she going to be allowed to go back home?” he asked, brows knit with concern.  
“She won’t be able to go home unattended, are you able to help keep an eye on her over the next few hours? She’s alright to sleep if she nods off, there’s no risk of anything at this point. You’ll need to make sure she stays off her feet and gets plenty of fluids until she can stand unassisted…”  
“Of course. Whatever she needs.” Fred cut her off. Doris nodded and led him back to where Hermione was. They hadn’t changed her into a hospital gown, but she’d wrapped herself in a blanket to try and better cover herself. She looked embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Right then, what else does she need to do here before I can take her home?” He asked as he rubbed his palms on his sweats.  
“If you could just sign here, I believe your boyfriend already filled out all the pertinent information.” Doris offered her the clipboard. Fred felt himself blush, but neither of them corrected her assumption. After she’d handed Hermione a list of instructions the woman left with a warning not to apparate until she was feeling better.  
“Well, that was quicker than expected.” He joked, crossing his arms nervously over his chest. Suddenly keenly aware that he was not appropriately dressed to be out in public.  
“Perk of being famous I suppose. I only hope whoever they skipped over to see me so quickly wasn’t seriously hurt.” She sighed heavily, moving to swing her feet off the bed.  
“Hold it right there, love. You aren’t supposed to walk or stand unassisted just yet.” He reached to take her shoulders, not convinced she could stand on her own.  
“Nonsense, I feel fine.” She argued, immediately swaying and sitting back down when she tried to get to her feet. He raised an eyebrow in question and crossed his arms over his chest again.  
“Fine. If you could be so kind as to help me floo home?” She asked with an edge of bitterness in her tone.  
Fred collected her into his arms again and flooed back to his flat.  
“Why are we in your flat?” She demanded, irritated by the change in plans.  
“You need looking after, but if I’m not here when George rises it’ll send him into a panic,” Fred explained as he carried her to his room.  
“Oh no! You have work in a few hours don’t you? I’m so sorry, Fred…” She bit her lip in guilt.  
“We don’t need to be downstairs until nine, it’s barely six. It’ll be fine.” He soothed.

He gently set her on his bed, pulling the blankets up over her. He crossed to rummage through the chest of drawers, tossing a clean shirt and a pair of boxer shorts onto the bed for her.  
“What’s that for?” she asked, afraid to touch the clothing.  
“If you want to keep your dress on that’s fine by me, but I thought these might be more comfortable.” He explained, keeping his back to her so she could change. He heard the rustle of the dress falling to the floor and resisted the urge to sneak a peek at her as she changed.  
“I’m decent.” Her voice was quieter than he expected. When he turned back to her he noticed a light blush had taken up residence on her cheeks.  
“They said you have to have plenty of fluids while your head gets back to normal. Water ok? Or do you want something else?” he offered, crossing to the door to head to the kitchen.  
“Water is fine,” she answered with a tired sigh. He couldn’t help but notice how small she looked in his shirt. His heart faltered slightly at the sight, unsure of what to do with the sensation, he scurried into the kitchen as quickly as he could.

He returned a few minutes later and set the glass on the nightstand before casting a nox to turn out the lights. As he turned to leave the room he thought he heard her whisper his name.  
“Did you just call me?” his hand stilled on the doorknob.  
“Will you sit with me for a bit?” she whispered, clutching the water glass between her hands. He nodded and shut the door before crossing back to the bed and sitting next to her. He wasn’t entirely surprised when she leaned into him, the position familiar to them now. They’d fallen asleep next to each other on the sofa a few times since that first night, but he hadn’t held her again the way he had that night. He’d wanted to, but she’d never asked.

“I came home alone tonight, completely struck out. That’s why I got so drunk. I feel so stupid.” She whispered. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed lightly in response. She leaned easily into his chest, not seeming to mind his shirtlessness anymore. The tickle of her hair against the skin sent a shiver down his spine.  
“I got home and I was just so frustrated with myself. It hadn’t occurred to me that the time would come when this wouldn’t work anymore. I had a couple drinks by myself and decided I was going to take a shower and just go to bed, but I tripped over my own feet and hit my head on the way down.” She sipped slowly at the water after explaining.  
“Have you been drinking like that a lot, ‘Mione?” he asked cautiously.  
“No. Sometimes I’ll have a little too much when I’m out, but not like this. I don’t usually drink alone. I’m not sure I should try that again.” He could hear the embarrassment in her voice.  
“That’s not a bad plan, really.” He agreed.  
“I think I’m losing myself.” She sighed, handing him the glass to set back on the nightstand.  
“What do you mean?” He settled back next to her, moving so she could curl under his arm again.  
“I don’t know who I am from day to day anymore. It feels like I never fully wake up from the nightmares sometimes. Some days it feels like things are getting back to how they were, and then nights like tonight happen. I would never have drunk like this before.” She sounded angry with herself.  
“We can’t be who we were before, Hermione. War changes everything. All things considered, I’m surprised we’re both still here.” He admitted.  
“Me too.” She sighed.  
“I know what you mean. About the nightmares, that is. Even when things are going really well it feels like there’s a phantom in the corner of the room waiting to pop out. I never thought I’d miss the ghoul at the Burrow, but I do. At least that ghoul actually exists.”  
“That’s what tonight felt like, a nightmare coming to life. I can’t believe I did that.” She groaned, running a hand over her face in agitation.  
“You should have called me.” He chastised her gently, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.  
“And what? Told you I couldn’t get someone to shag me?” she chuckled sleepily.  
“Something like that.” He breathed. If she heard, she didn’t respond. After a few minutes, he realised she had fallen asleep.

* * *

 

“Oi! You tosser, knock it off or you’ll be late for work!” George bellowed as he launched himself through the bedroom door and onto the bed with a belly flop.  
“What the bloody fuck?!” Hermione screamed, flailing out from underneath the blankets. George rolled to the floor in a panic, awkwardly shuffling to his feet.  
“Sweet Merlin, Hermione?!” His eyes went wide with shock.  
“Get away from me!” She was standing on the mattress, eyes glazed and wand drawn.  
“Everybody stand down!” Fred launched himself to his feet, reaching up to take Hermione’s wand from her as she crumbled into tears.  
“It’s okay, love. You’re safe, it was just George. It’s okay...” He soothed as he climbed back into the bed and pulled her to him.  
“Shit, I’m so sorry…” George started, but a pointed look from his twin had him backing out of the room.  
“I thought… I didn’t… it was just George?” She choked out between sobs.  
“Just George.” He confirmed, smoothing her hair and rocking her gently.  
“I’m so sorry…”  
“No need to be sorry. Go back to sleep for a bit, you need to rest. And drink some more water.” He leaned her back into the pillows, pulling the blankets back up around her.  
“I’m fine, Fred…” she protested, wiping the tears from her face.  
“Nope, you’re resting today. Healer’s orders. Just give a shout if you need anything. And don’t you dare try leaving this bed unassisted, I’ll not be bringing you back to St. Mungo’s so soon.” He ordered. She huffed, but relaxed back into the bed, the exhaustion clear on her face.  
“I’ll bring you some bruise paste for that shiner in a bit. Does it hurt still?” He gingerly ran his fingers over the side of her face.  
“A little.” She admitted.  
“Give me a few minutes to talk to George and I’ll fetch something for it, yeah?” He didn’t wait for her to answer as he made his way out of the room.

George was sitting nervously on the edge of an armchair, throwing guilty glances back at Fred’s bedroom door. He smiled sheepishly at his brother when he joined him in the armchair opposite. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither sure how to begin the conversation.

“I didn’t know you had company…” He grimaced, expecting to get chewed out.  
“It’s not like that. She’s got a concussion and someone needed to look after her. It was easier to bring her here than stay at hers.” Fred rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.  
“How did she get a concussion in the middle of the night?” George sat a little straighter in his chair, intrigued by the possibilities.  
“It’s not really anyone’s business but hers. Point is, she needed help and she asked. They were pretty clear she shouldn’t be alone for a bit while she gets her bearings back. She’ll need to stay for the day, at least until she can move easily on her own.” He explained, meeting his brother’s eyes for the first time.  
“I know that’s who you’re with when you disappear. She wouldn’t tell me why, but I know that’s where you go. You’d tell me if something was going on with you two, right?” The words tumbled from George’s mouth before he could stop them. He winced at his own carelessness.  
“It’s nothing like that. She and I have more in common than I think most people realise. She’s somebody I can talk to about...about different things.” Fred broke eye contact.  
“Things you can’t talk about with me, you mean?” George sounded defeated.  
“Yes.” He admitted, shoulders slumping.  
“I know we never used to have secrets, Fred, but if this is what you need right now… Well, then, it’s what you need right now. If talking to her helps keep you from… you know.” He shrugged, not able to bring himself to say it.  
“Thank you.” Fred nodded and stood, making his way back to his room again. He stopped and put a hand on George’s shoulder and waited for him to look up.  
“I know you’re worried, but I’m going to be okay. You know that right?” He squeezed his shoulder. George surprised him by putting his own hand on top of his and squeezing back.  
“I hope so, Fred.” He admitted with a sad smile. Fred removed his hand with a nod and went back to his room.

When he slipped back into the room he couldn’t help but hover just beyond the threshold. Hermione was curled tightly around herself in the middle of his bed. He couldn’t tell if she was actually asleep again or just pretending to be. He quietly clicked the door closed behind him and crossed to kneel by the side of the bed.

“Hermione?” he called quietly. She didn’t stir so he tried again, reaching out to gently tap on her shoulder this time. She squirmed slightly but didn’t wake. She was either really good at faking it or she’d actually gone back to sleep. Content that she would be okay for a few hours he rose and dressed for work. He left the door to his room open so he’d hear Hermione if she called. As he made to leave the flat he remembered the bruise paste.

“George?” He called down the stairs into the stockroom.  
“Fred?” He popped his head around the doorjamb.  
“Toss me a tub of bruise paste, yeah?” He waited a moment before he saw his brother pop back around and toss the small container up the steps.  
“Cheers.” He nodded in thanks and quickly popped back into his bedroom to leave it for Hermione.

His face softened slightly as he saw she’d pulled one of his pillows to her and was clutching it tightly. Without thinking he crossed the room and planted a kiss on her temple before leaving the paste on the nightstand for her and disappearing back into the flat. He did not see her stir or hear her sudden intake of breath as he headed down to work.


	5. I'm A Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Talk of self-harm.
> 
> AN: I know this is a day late. I'm trying to update this every 1-3 days, dependent on how my muse is behaving. Last night all it wanted to do was proofread and reformat all previous chapters. There haven't been any changes to content, other than to clarify an oopsie about Bill in regards to the polyjuice. The correction doesn't change this story in any way. Chapter title is an Ed Sheeran song.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

**I'm A Mess**

Hermione woke sometime in the early afternoon. She took in a deep breath and her nose was filled with the familiar scent of Fred. Her heart stuttered as she opened her eyes and remembered where she was. Slowly, she pushed herself up and listened for sounds in the flat. All she could hear was the hustle and bustle of the shop below. Turning her head to the nightstand she saw the promised container of bruise paste and sighed in relief. She was still feeling a bit groggy as she made to secure her hair back and out of the way. Her fingers lightly brushed her temple and for a brief moment, she thought she remembered the ghost of a sensation. Lips gently pressed to the delicate skin there, warm and familiar. She shook herself out of the thought, nothing good could come from dwelling on it. She was still so keyed up, even after a long rest, from the night before. She reached for the bruise paste and opened it, for the first time noticing Fred did not have a mirror in his room. Her fingers moved to her temple again, gently probing the area where his lips had been.

“You’re awake.” Fred smiled as he entered the room with such quiet steps she’d not heard him enter the flat.  
“Just woke up.” She removed her fingers, feeling her cheeks warm slightly as he stared at her.  
“Want a hand with that?” he gestured to the bruise paste, coming to sit in front of her without waiting for an answer. He scooped a little onto his fingers and carefully smoothed it over the injured area. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the gentle touch. Her breath stalling when she felt him lean in closer to her.  
“There,” he started to pull his fingers away, she reached up and held them there a moment longer as she slowly opened her eyes. She could feel the slight tremor in both their hands as she wrapped her fingers around his.  
“Thank you,” she whispered, surprised at the shakiness in her own voice.  
“It’s no problem,” he swallowed and watched her carefully, unmoving.  
“Not just for this. For…” she worried her bottom lip for a moment. His eyes darted to her lips.  
“Just… thank you for everything. The last month has been a lot easier,” she exhaled loudly, a weight lifting from her shoulders. He swallowed again, beginning to lean toward her. Her heart hammered in her chest as he closed his eyes, hers following soon after.

“You two about ready for some lunch?” George popped his head through the door. They jumped apart, sending the container of bruise paste rolling to the floor. If George noticed how close they’d been, he didn’t mention it.  
“I was thinking I could duck out and pick something up, Lee and Verity have everything pretty well in hand down there.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, ignoring Fred’s mad scramble to close the tub of bruise paste and tuck it away.  
“I’m famished,” Hermione admitted, twisting the excess fabric of Fred’s shirt in her hands.  
“Forge?” George asked, expectantly.  
“Sure, sure. It is getting to be about that time. Where were you thinking?” He straightened himself up and casually crossed his arms, actively avoiding looking back at the bed.  
“Wasn’t sure what this one was allowed.” He nodded toward Hermione.  
“So long as it’s not alcohol, I can have what I please,” she answered after scanning the discharge paper she’d left abandoned on the floor the night before.  
“Anything particular you might like? I can pick up something from Leaky or pop through to one of the Muggle takeaways.” George offered. Hermione’s face lit up.  
“Takeaway then?” He smiled at her, it had been too long since he’d seen a smile reach her eyes.  
“I’d love a good curry. It’s been awhile…”  
“I know just the place. That alright with you?” He turned his attention back to his twin, who was spending altogether too long staring mutely at the witch in his bed.  
“S’fine by me. You know what I like.” He quirked a smile at his brother.  
“I’ll be back in two shakes,” he headed back toward the shop stairs as quietly as he’d initially appeared.

The air was charged with a mix of awkwardness and expectancy. Neither was sure how to break the silence or approach what may well have been in the process of happening when George had so casually interrupted them. Fred hesitantly crossed back to the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress just out of Hermione’s reach.

“You two are worse than cats. How do you walk so quietly?” Hermione shook her head in disbelief, still staring at where the other ginger had just departed.  
“Ah, well, when you want to avoid getting caught it’s helpful to be light on one’s feet. Once we figured out how to creep ‘round the castle without echoing down the corridors it may well have been Filch’s undoing,” he laughed at her shocked expression.  
“Speaking of cats, Crooks will be wanting to be fed. If he’s not shredded my sofa in indignation at being left for so long he’ll be pacing the kitchen yowling,” she winced at the thought, the aging beast was particular about his feeding schedule.  
“Do you think you can walk? Or did you want me to pop over and check on him?” Fred stood again, offering his hand to her. She bit her lip and took it, her head was not nearly as woozy as it had been the night before. He carefully pulled her to her feet and waited to see if she could move on her own.

“I don’t feel dizzy anymore, I think I can handle it on my own. I’d like to get dressed and have a shower as well,” she blushed as he took in the sight of her in his clothes. She looked like she was being swallowed alive by the fabric.  
“Do you want me to go with you? You know, just in case you get dizzy again…” She caught an edge of nervousness in his voice that made her start to blush. She nodded and dropped his hand, scooping her discarded dress from his bedroom floor and making her way to the floo.

Crookshanks nearly took her off her feet when he launched himself at her, yowling in indignation. She couldn’t help but laugh at the angry ball of fur that served as her familiar.

“I know, mummy’s been terribly mean to you. Leaving in the middle of the night and not coming back first thing to feed you. What a bad mummy you have,” she cooed as she swept him into her arms and made her way to the kitchen.

Fred watched in fascination as she juggled the half-kneazle in one arm and prepared his food with the other. He purred affectionately at his mistress as she continued to mumble into his fur and kiss the top of his head. Fred smirked softly as she chastised the animal for wolfing down his food too quickly, the seriousness in her voice more amusing than it should be. It wasn’t all that different from the Prefect's voice he remembered from school.

“Do you think I have enough time for a shower? I don’t know how long it generally takes George to pick up food…” she was pulling a towel from the linen cupboard in the hall, hesitant to take it into the bathroom.  
“You should have time. Are you going to be okay unattended? How is your head?”  
“I should be fine, I still feel a bit tired but I’m otherwise fine. If you’re worried we can always talk while I’m in there.”  
“That won’t be weird for you?”  
“I don’t see why it would be unless you’ve learned to see through shower curtains.” She joked, missing the way his face began to flush.

Fred waited until he was certain she’d be under the water and behind the curtain before entering and having a seat on the toilet lid. He tried not to over think things, knowing that she was so very close and so very unclothed.

“I know this is a bit odd…” she started over the rush of the water.  
“At this point, ‘Mione, I’m not entirely sure everything we do isn’t a bit odd.” He chuckled, trying to avert his eyes from the silhouette behind the curtain.  
“It is all a bit odd, isn’t it?” she laughed.  
“So, what do we talk about while you’re in there?” He asked, crossing and uncrossing his legs nervously.  
“You haven’t told me much about what’s going on with you lately.”  
“Nothing much has changed if I’m honest. I have good days and bad days.”  
“Are you still… I didn’t get a look at your arms this morning.” She sighed.  
“Sometimes. Not every bad day, just the really bad ones. I’m trying not to.” He sounded guilty, she wondered if he’d been healing the cuts properly or if there were new scars on his arms.  
“Why haven’t you reached out about it?” She washed a little more hurriedly now.  
“How in the world is that message supposed to go? ‘Could you please come over right now because I’m afraid if I’m left alone too long I may bleed out onto the bathroom floor?’ Not exactly the easiest message to send.” He snarked.  
“You don’t have to tell me why just tell me to come. I would for you, no questions asked.” She was trying to rinse the last of the conditioner from her hair now. There was a long silence on the other side as she shut off the water and summoned the towel to her from the hook behind the door.  
“I...I don’t know how to respond to that.” He broke the silence with a mumble.  
“You did it for me.” She was clasping the towel around herself as she stepped out and faced him.  
“Course I did.” He looked her in the eyes, actively fighting the urge to look anywhere else.  
“And I would do it for you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek before exiting the bathroom.  
“I just want to change and we can head back. I’m sure George won’t be long with lunch.” Fred nodded, and returned to the living room, settling himself onto the arm of the sofa. He couldn't help but hold his fingers to his cheeks where her lips had been only moments before.

* * *

 

“Everything alright, Fred?” George asked, watching his brother carefully. He’d been slowly restocking the same shelf for nearly twenty minutes now. He’d been completely distracted since lunch yesterday and eerily quiet. Even on his worst days, Fred was not a silent man, muttering under his breath or irritatingly tapping against things as he worked.  
“Just trying to puzzle something out, Georgie,” he answered, shaking his head and quickly finishing the task at hand.  
“Did something happen yesterday? You’ve been oddly quiet since Hermione left last night.” He followed him back into the stockroom.  
“No, nothing happened. But…” He shook his head, seeming to change his mind mid-sentence.  
“Something could have done?” George pressed, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking the exit back into the shop. Fred sighed heavily, thoughts clearly whirling in his mind.  
“I can’t really explain it. It’s all very… complicated.” He huffed, raking his hands through his hair.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” George offered.  
“I want to, but I can’t. There are things I can’t tell you…” George made a sharp intake of breath, his eyes flicking to his brother’s covered arms.  
“No! Not like that! There are some things that aren’t mine to tell.” He stood and grabbed his twin’s shoulders, looking him in the eye as he explained.  
“And they play into everything somehow?” Fred nodded in response, letting go.  
“I almost kissed her yesterday.” He admitted.  
“What happened?” George tried to suppress the grin sneaking onto his face.  
“You interrupted it.” He accused.  
“Merlin’s beard, I’m sorry, Fred. I see how you look at her, I didn’t mean to.” He grimaced at his own cockup, he did not want to get in the way of his brother’s potential happiness.  
“It’s alright. We haven’t talked about it. There have been feelings. Least I think so. I know there are on my end, I’m not sure on hers.” He mumbled, staring at the floor.  
“Why haven’t you talked to her about it?”  
“I’m afraid of losing her if I bollocks this up. It’s too soon, I think. After Ron... And with everything she’s going through. With everything I’m dealing with, it doesn’t feel right.” He shook his head, continuing to stare at his own feet.  
“Still might be worth trying to talk to her about it. Gauge how she feels about things.” George offered, hopefully.  
“I don’t know, George. I just don’t know.” He shook his head and pushed past him back onto the sales floor.

George considered if it might be worth asking Hermione himself, but he couldn’t think of a way to broach the subject without betraying his brother’s trust.

* * *

 

Hermione hummed along with the wireless, fighting to keep herself distracted. She was deep cleaning her kitchen, scrubbing at the rarely unclean surfaces like her life depended on it. In a small way, she supposed it did. She didn’t know how to handle the mix of emotions running through her tightly wound body. She did not like the sense of longing she was feeling or the fear that seemed to accompany it. It had taken all her willpower to not kiss Fred the way she had wanted to and drag him with her to the bedroom. She inherently knew he would have followed, unquestioning, and done whatever she asked. And then she wouldn’t have been able to look at him ever again, and she very much liked looking at Fred. She liked hearing his voice and smelling his smell. She liked everything that came with being around Fred Weasley, and the thought was terrifying to her. So she’d settled for the next best thing and kissed him on the cheek instead. They’d managed to entirely avoid a conversation about their almost kiss.

It was all too soon for her. She had a feeling Fred intuitively knew that, but it didn’t make her feel any better about it. Everything after the war had seemed too soon, everything with Ron so very rushed and unfulfilling. And now there was an after Ron to contend with, that she was not navigating in the best way she could. Anonymous sex was just as much about banishing the memories of his body on hers as it was about feeding her need to feel something. She knew at some point she would need to speak with him again and get closure to it all, but it was too fresh still. She wanted to heal her wounded pride a bit first before she sat down for that particular conversation. She sighed and leaned over the sink, unsure what the next step in all this was. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, but Fred’s face kept appearing and making her heart beat faster.

 


	6. Fatally Gorgeous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another chapter so soon?! Yes. I’m trying to get this to the point where I’m updating every 1-3 days, currently, I’m pushing closer to 3-4. This one is on the short side. Title is part of a lyric from “Black Dresses” by Spill Canvas.
> 
> Warning: Talk of self-harm.

**Fatally Gorgeous**

Time did not pass the way it was supposed to anymore. That was one of the first things Hermione had noticed after Ron had been gone for more than a week. Without the routine of coming and going from the Ministry, she had no way to measure the passing of her days. She felt like she was on some sort of bizarre auto-pilot. She didn’t always remember feeding Crookshanks or going grocery shopping, but she must be doing both because they were eating regularly. If it wasn’t for Molly and Ginny’s weekly reminders about Sunday night dinner she wouldn’t know where one week ended and the next began. Her days ran together if she didn’t go out at night or see Fred during the day. Point of fact was, she realised, she often didn’t know what day or time it was anymore.

There was no rhyme or reason to her meetings with Fred, no set day or time or even set number of meetings each week. She could generally discern what day it might be based on whether he opened, closed, or had the day off from the shop. But, that was never a guarantee as he was much more likely to trade a shift for Verity or Lee than George was. At some point she’d stopped asking about the store altogether, it wasn’t something that seemed to be attached to his pain. It was just a thing that was there that filled much of his day. She imagined it was a pretty good distraction for him, not enough time to dwell on things when he was immersed in work. Even when she’d roused him in the wee hours of the morning to help her he’d still managed to get himself down to the shop the next morning.

She was fairly certain it had only been twenty-four hours since Fred had brought her home from the hospital, but she couldn’t be sure. Everything felt like it had happened mere minutes ago. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa after cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom. The problem she was running into was that she didn’t know if she’d only slept a few hours, or if she’d slept through to the next day. She hadn’t opened her curtains in days, preferring the darkness while she was so thoroughly locked within her own mind. She wondered if maybe that was a bad idea, she’d read once that sunlight could help lift your mood. Going out night after night certainly hadn’t done anything to improve her mental state. She guessed it had been about one month since she’d picked up that particular habit. It wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped it would. Every time the strange men touched her and she closed her eyes she saw Ron, and she very much did not want to. She supposed it was the lack of emotional attachment to the other person, it wasn’t in her personality to give herself so willingly to a complete stranger. Whatever dissociative thinking she was employing to convince herself this kind of behaviour was okay clearly was not to her benefit.

Drinking just made it all worse. If it was possible for her to get even more numb, alcohol accomplished the task. For someone that so desperately wanted to feel something again, besides pain, she sure had chosen methods that did the opposite. When she was sober and alone with her eyes closed one of two things would happen- she’d either relive moments of the war or she’d see Fred. It was always a roll of the dice. She knew which one she preferred, but that didn’t seem to make a difference to her subconscious mind. It was difficult to discern if she’d have the same pull to the older Weasley man if their downward spirals didn’t seem to be mirroring one another. She hoped so.

She wondered if he thought about these things when he was alone. When he closed his eyes, did he see her face? Did he reach for memories of her voice or smell when the panic hit? She ached at the thought of being with him, just sitting in silence and being together in the moment. She shook the thoughts from her mind, dwelling on questions she couldn’t answer right now was not helpful. Right now, she needed to decide whether she was going to try and go back to sleep or whether it was time to get up.

She looked around the flat in a sort of haze, still trying to puzzle out what day and time it might be. An exact answer didn’t matter so much, but a general idea would be helpful. She was pretty sure there was something important coming up soon, but she’d left her agenda book at the Ministry and not bothered to retrieve it. She only hoped she’d remember on her own, she had a niggling thought in the back of her mind that whatever it was held some sort of importance to her. She shook her head and rose to take a peek out the living room curtains. It was definitely night, but she couldn’t tell how late. Same day then, she decided. She doubted she would have slept clear through another night and day without stirring. If nothing else, Crookshanks would have woken her at some point.

She was still staring out into the empty night when she heard the familiar tap of a beak on glass coming from the kitchen. She crossed into the other room and opened the sash, admitting one of the post owls from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It did not stay long enough for her to find it a treat, taking off into the night as quickly as it had arrived. She unrolled the small scrap of parchment, seemingly torn from a larger unrelated document.

_Need You. -F._

It was short, but it was enough. She wasn’t sure when she’d be back, so she filled Crookshank’s dish early and said a hasty goodbye to the sleeping creature. She packed a change of clothing into her bag, just in case, and apparated into the darkness of the twins’ flat.

“Fred?” she called out quietly, listening for sounds of movement in the darkness to tell her where he was. She spotted light coming from under the bathroom doorway and made her way down the hallway as quietly as she could. She assumed George was sleeping and didn’t want to alarm him for no reason.

When she reached the bathroom she gently tapped on the door before pushing it open. Fred was sat on the side of the tub, head in his hands. His sleeves were rolled up, but she couldn’t clearly tell if he’d done anything to himself. She clicked the door closed behind her and cast a quick Muffliato just in case George roused. She turned the lock on the door for good measure and kneeled in front of Fred.

“What happened?” He lifted his head from his hands and stared at her, shaking his head slightly before flicking his eyes to the sink. She followed his gaze and saw his wand sitting on the edge of the basin, the tip oddly sharpened. She frowned and turned back to him.  
“I didn’t. I was going to, but I didn’t.” He rasped, it was obvious he had been crying for some time. She wondered if he had been screaming at some point as well. She said nothing, only put her arms around him and squeezed as tightly as she could.

He seemed to crumple in her embrace, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder and gripping tightly to the back of her sweater. She didn’t relent, keeping as much pressure on him as possible, willing his broken pieces back together through sheer force. Slowly but surely, he began to calm and breathe more evenly. He pulled away from her slightly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I don’t know what caused it. Everything was fine and all of a sudden… it was this overwhelming feeling of dread. My chest tightened and my heart started racing. I couldn’t breathe or think clearly, all I wanted to do was hurt myself. I was just trying to go to bed…” His voice was exhausted.  
“It sounds like you may have had a panic attack. Is that what happens every time?” She asked, resting her hands on his knees. He nodded and took in another shuddering breath. She waited a few moments before standing and pulling him to his feet. She took his wand and tucked it into her bag with her own. She doubted he’d try anything, but she didn’t want to risk it. She walked him back to his room, closing the door behind them.

“Lay down,” she instructed, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag on the nightstand. He looked at her quizzically but did as he was told. He rolled onto his side and watched her carefully as she hovered over the bed.

“Can I?” She nodded at the empty space next to him. He nodded, swallowing audibly as she climbed in next to him.

Their faces were only inches apart as their eyes locked in the dark. She reached across the small space and pulled one of his hands to her. She interlocked their fingers and smoothed her thumb soothingly over his.

“I’m here,” she whispered, barely audible even with their proximity.  
“I know,” he murmured back, watching as she pulled their hands to her lips and kissed each of his knuckles.  
“I’m not leaving.”  
“I don’t want you to.”  
“Turn over,” she dropped his hand and waited for him to turn away from her. When he’d resettled himself she threaded her arms around him and pulled herself as close as she could, positioning herself slighter higher up the bed so she could rest her chin on his shoulder.  
“I’ve got you and I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now and I’m not leaving,” her voice was firm and heavy with emotion as she whispered in his ear. He crossed his arms over where she held him and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. She continued to murmur soothing words in his ear, occasionally squeezing him tighter. The longer she held him the more he calmed, the more she soothed the more his mind cleared.  
“I’m sorry for calling you over in the middle of the night.” His voice was clear now, but not much louder than her own.  
“Payback for what I did to you, I’m sure,” she teased.  
“I wish I knew why this keeps happening. Everything seems fine and then suddenly I want to slit my wrists open.” He sighed heavily and extricated himself from her hold, rolling onto his back. To his surprise, she settled herself on his chest instead of pulling away as he had expected she would.  
“I still think it has something to do with what happened to you during the battle. I think something didn’t heal right. I’m still trying to find a healer we can ask about it.”  
“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” he admitted.  
“I know you don’t. It’s not your fault, Fred, you can’t help what’s happening to you,” the conviction in her voice kept him from arguing. This was not a debate he would win with her.  
“Thank you for coming.”  
“I told you I would. Anytime, anywhere. All you have to do is ask. That’s the deal until we both get better.” He hadn’t realised how tired she sounded until now, he repositioned them slightly so he could better hold onto her. She hadn’t asked, but he could sense she needed the closeness right now too.

They were quiet for a long while, both beginning to drift off. He felt her tense suddenly, an echo of the night they’d stayed on the sofa running through his mind.  
“Is that calendar correct?” She suddenly remembered what it was that she didn’t want to forget. The question startled him, his eyes locating the object in the dark where it was positioned just behind his alarm clock. It was just after midnight now, the large cross through the last day on the calendar indicating it was now officially a new month.  
“Unless we’ve lost a day somewhere it’s correct.” He mumbled.  
“Happy birthday, Fred.” She pushed up and kissed him on the cheek, just barely missing his lips.  
“Thank you,” he held her as closely as he could, knowing she wouldn’t pull away. It wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

 


	7. We Ain't Kids No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is the last update for this week. I won’t be able to work on anything until Monday, so it’s going to be at least 3 days before I can get the next chapter up. Thank you so much to everyone who has messaged and reviewed with feedback on the platforms this is posted to. I feel like I need to mention that I am not a professional psychologist. I’m just a person who has experienced some of these things first hand. There will inevitably be mistakes in how things are described. I’m doing my best to keep things realistic and we’ll get an idea of what they actually have as we get further into the story. This chapter is a lyric from Adele’s Send My Love (To Your New Lover).
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of self-harm and suicide.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties in any way.

 

**We Ain’t Kids No More**

When Fred woke Hermione was already gone. He’d not felt her slip out of his arms and was startled by the sudden emptiness he felt at her absence. He crept slowly into the hallway, checking to see if she was elsewhere in the flat. There was no sound and no light spilling out from under the bathroom door. With a sigh, he crossed into the kitchen and saw two notes waiting for him on the counter.

 

_Don’t forget dinner tonight! Hermione mentioned you had a rough night, take the morning and we’ll switch off at lunch. Busy day today! -Gred_

 

_I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you at dinner tonight, I’ve got to take care of a few things. -H_

 

He wondered what she needed to do that couldn’t wait until he’d woken up, but realised it really wasn’t any of his affair. She didn’t owe him an explanation for her comings and goings. He sighed and went about making himself something to eat before he headed down to work.

 

Hermione was better rested than she’d been in weeks. The comfort of being next to Fred was not something she had expected to come so naturally to her. She’d stayed as still as possible when she’d woken, enjoying the closeness and warmth of him. The longer she stayed there the more she realised she needed to speak to Ron. If she was going to eventually pursue… whatever it was she and Fred were building toward...she didn’t want the spectre of their failed relationship hovering out the corner of her eye. So she’d slipped away, bumping into George on her way out. She’s agreed to leave a note and promised to be at The Burrow later for their birthday dinner. Then, she’d borrowed one of their shop owls and sent a message to their brother. As the lunch hour rolled around she found herself sitting in a cafe not far from the Ministry waiting for Ron to meet her.

 

Her heart didn’t falter the way it once had any time he walked into a room. If anything, she was indifferent to his appearance. Anger still licked the periphery of her mind, but not enough to engulf her the way it had in the beginning. She waved to get his attention and carefully sipped at her tea as he made his way over. He stood awkwardly, seeming to wait for her to rise and embrace him. She didn’t.

 

“Hi.” He slid into the seat, indicating to the server that he’d like a tea.

“Hello.” Her voice was tight as she fought back the urge to scream at him.

“I got your owl…” he cleared his throat loudly, unable to look her in the eye.

“So I see.” She huffed, taking a few deep breaths to center herself.

“Hermione, I’m…” She put her hand up to stop him. She didn’t want to hear his reasoning or his apologies.

“Don’t apologise, Ron. Just don’t do it to whoever it is you’re with now. Treat her better.” Her voice was firmer than she’d expected, but she meant every word.

“It’s Demelza...Robins... Demelza Robins.” He blurted, his ears going pink at the tip the way most of the Weasley men seemed to blush.

“I… I did not see that coming. Didn’t you make her cry once?” She sat up straighter, gobsmacked by the revelation.

“Back at school, yeah. You would remember that… We’re not kids anymore.” He was getting irritated with her and began to squirm in his seat.

“We haven’t been kids for a long time, Ron. We weren’t kids when we were kids.” She sighed and explained gently. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea in a cloud of their shared history. No matter what, the lead up to the war would always be theirs.

“Why did you want to meet me today?” He looked her in the eye, concern written across his face.

“I need to bury this. Us. I need to move on from you. I can’t do that by being angry at you, as much as I’d like to. I want to get on with my life.” She explained, trying to calm the shaking in her hands by ducking them under the table. She had not planned on having this conversation so soon. But, Fred...

“Is there someone? I mean, did you meet somebody?” He cleared his throat again, slightly uncomfortable with the topic.

“There might be.” She smirked, secretly enjoying the way the news made him frown almost imperceptibly.

“That’s good. I know I messed up, Hermione, but I want you to be happy. Even if I couldn’t give you that.” He covered his discomfort, folding his hands on top of the table and leaning closer to her.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” She nodded, voice even.

“What do you need from me?” He settled back in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs in agitation at her stare.

“I need you to listen. You’re not going to be happy about it, but I need you to know so I can get on with my life.” She swallowed heavily before forcing the words out. There was no use in trying to ease him into it, neither of them was going to be particularly happy with the topics of conversation.

“Okay. I’m listening.” He crossed his arms in front of him and for the first time in her memory, he kept his attention on her and really listened.

 

There had been some yelling and tears on both sides by the time they were done. She told him the truth about the suicide attempt and about how she’s handled things since their parting. She told him how she’d known longer than she let on that he was with someone else. She made him promise not to treat Demelza the same way he had her. He made her promise to keep looking for a healer who would help her and vowed not to tell Harry until she was ready for him to know everything. Things were not fixed, it was still clear to her he didn’t completely understand the weight of what she’d told him. But, it was a start and a way for her to start moving on.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to feel when she got home. She had butterflies in her stomach about the thought of telling Fred she’d told Ron everything. It felt like a step in the right direction, no matter how small it really was. She was still angry with him deep down, but he wasn’t at the forefront of her mind anymore. She spent some time snuggling Crookshanks before slowly starting to get ready for the twins’ birthday dinner. She was holding up different options in the mirror when she heard the familiar crackle of the floo.

 

“Who is it?” She called, closing her robe around herself and stepping into the hallway.

“It’s just me, is this a bad time?” Fred was standing uncomfortably in front of her fireplace.

“It’s fine, I was just getting changed for your dinner.” She smiled and ducked back into her bedroom, pulling on the first dress on the pile without much thought before hustling back out to Fred.

“You look really pretty.” He mumbled when she hugged him in greeting. Her cheeks blushed at the compliment, looking down at the deep purple fabric.

“Thank you.” She sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her.

“What can I do for you?” She asked, trying to get a read on him. He exhaled loudly before answering.

“I don’t want to go tonight.” His shoulders slumped forward as he avoided her eyes.

“Then we won’t go.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze.

“Won’t that just make everyone worry?” She shrugged in response.

“I don’t want George to worry…”

“We’ll tell him you weren’t up for a big to-do. You’re an adult, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to skip it just because I’m not going.” He carefully set his head on top of hers, smiling softly to himself.

“I was only going because of you. George won’t be bothered if I’m not there. And I’ve already seen Ron today, I’m not exactly keen on seeing him again so soon.” She bit her top lip in anticipation of his reaction.

“You saw Ron?” He pulled back from her, turning to face her in confusion.

“I told him everything. I had to so I can let it go and move on.”

“You think you’re ready to move on so soon?” He swallowed, tamping down the hope in his heart.

“I’ve been sleeping with complete strangers, I don’t think potentially dating somebody is going to break me. Not like I can get much more broken.” She joked darkly.

“Do you still… do you still want to do that? Shag strangers, I mean.” He stumbled over the words, embarrassed.

“Time will tell. I haven’t the past few days, but we’ve been pretty busy falling apart…” She rolled her eyes with a little laugh.

“Yeah. We’re good at that.” He smiled with a light chuckle.

“I miss your smile. Even if it’s just a small one.” She reached over and traced the corners of his lips.

“You do?”

“Of course. What do you want to do instead?” She pulled her fingers away, blushing slightly.

“I haven’t thought much about it.” He shook his head and furrowed his brows.

“Do you want to stay in or go somewhere?” She leaned on one elbow against the back of the sofa.

“It might be nice to get out of the flat for a bit.” He tilted his head in thought.

“Can I see your arms?” She changed topics suddenly, an idea forming.

“I told you I didn’t do anything last night…”

“Not because of that, I want to see something…” He was confused, but rolled his sleeves and offered her his arms.

“I have an idea for something we could do. Something that might help cover this…” She ran her fingers over the light scarring from what had not been healed properly. Lingering on the worst of them.

“Oh?”

“How do you feel about a trip into Muggle London?” Mischief sparkled in her eyes, igniting a fire in his chest.


	8. Hands Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: UPDATE TO POSTING SCHEDULE. I start the new job on Monday and I’ve already begun a theatre gig. This means I’m going to be working 7 days a week until Christmas. While I am going to try and update this story every 1-3 days over the coming weeks, it will get more difficult as we get closer to the holidays. This is a very short update to get you something before I have to disappear for the weekend. If I can, I’ll be posting the next bit before Monday.Title is from Dashboard Confessional. 
> 
> Warning: No specific warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

**Hands Down**

 

Fred was not entirely prepared for the cutting burn of the needle across his skin. While Hermione had warned him that Muggle tattoos were much more painful than wizarding ones, he had not fully grasped just how much more painful she meant. The biggest of the scars littering his forearm hurt the most under the buzz of the needle. He did his best to bite back the pain but was secretly grateful for the occasional breaks the artist was giving him. She was a stocky woman with a black pixie cut and a hoop through her lip. She’d introduced herself as Tasha when they first arrived and seemed to know Hermione from somewhere and was either a squib or a witch living among Muggles. He’d drifted in and out of their conversation, focusing on the intricate lines and shading that had begun to blot out the stark white of his scars. The long one that ran most of the length was still visible in places, but much less noticeable than before. It occurred to him he could wear short sleeves again without having to glamour it. Unless he needed to hide the tattoo from his mother. He wasn’t exactly positive she’d be okay with the development.

 

The longer he watched, the more certain he was that this design had been the correct choice. He’d been relieved to learn that Tasha could use a combination of Wizarding and Muggle techniques to achieve the design he wanted. He didn’t really have a backup if Hermione had chosen to take him to a Muggle only shop. The familiar imagery of the front cover of the Marauders Map felt oddly at home on his skin, the scars lending a feel of crumpled parchment to the design. He was more than pleased with how it was coming out when Tasha leaned back and declared the Muggle portion of the design completed.

 

“Right then, so explain to me how you want the magic part to work again? You want the banner to float over the top, yes?”

“That’s right. And I’d like to be able to change it from ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’ to ‘mischief managed’ depending on my mood. Is it possible? I know the banner would need to change sizes…”

“It’s possible. It will float over the design, almost like it isn’t attached to the main work. Is that okay?” He nodded in approval and waited while she switched from the Muggle gun to her wand. He didn’t understand all the incantations she was muttering and wasn’t entirely sure it was working until he suddenly felt a warmth over his skin. The scroll-like banner appeared and flickered back and forth between the two phrases, stretching and shrinking as needed to contain the words. He smiled brightly, it was perfect.

 

“That good then?” She beamed at him, noting the way he couldn’t stop smiling at his arm.

“Much better than the scars that were there. I’m very lucky you were able to make sense of the description without ever having seen the thing. This is perfect.” His voice was heavy with emotion.

“It’s beautifully done.” Hermione piped up, hovering her fingers over the design without touching it.

“I can heal it up for you so you don’t have to wait it out. The bonus of being a wizard.” Tasha waved her wand over the raw and blood specked skin, murmuring a spell that seemed to heal the design in an instant.

“This is bloody brilliant. Thank you.” Fred threw his arms around the woman in a hug, obviously meaning every word.

“And what about you?” She turned her attention to Hermione, who was awkwardly twisting the hem of her skirt in her hands.

“I hadn’t thought about getting one. This is supposed to be Fred’s birthday present…”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t get a little something too, love,” Fred whispered, grabbing her hand and giving it a small squeeze.

“There is something I’ve been considering…” she admitted.

“Well?” Tasha prodded kindly.

“I… well, I’d like a Phoenix feather.”

“That’s easy enough to do. Magical or Muggle?”

“Muggle.”

“Where would you like it?”

“I think here if you think it would look okay?” Hermione pulled the collar of her dress aside slightly and indicated her collarbone.

“I can definitely do that. Just give me a couple minutes to sketch it up?” Tasha stood and cleaned off the workspace, taking her tools to be disinfected before setting up at her drawing station. It didn’t take long for her to bring a sketch back.

“I like the design, but I’m not sure about the size. Isn’t it a bit big?” She worried her bottom lip, the feather she was looking at easily would follow from her chest to her shoulder.

“I can shrink it down some…” Tasha resized the image, holding it up to Hermione’s collarbone again.

“This is better.” The new size looked like it could nest comfortably under the jut of the bone.

“Have a seat and we’ll get started.” Fred swapped with her quickly, leaning against the wall as Hermione had and watching her get her own bit of ink.

 

Hermione closed her eyes as the needle ran across her skin. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the curses she’d been subjected to over the years. It was almost pleasant in the way it hurt. She could feel the vibration through the bone, amplifying the sensation. She sighed and let herself get lost in the hum of the tattoo gun, not realising that Tasha and Fred had begun speaking. She wondered if Fred had felt the same way when it had been his turn. She wondered if he had found the pain blissful in some small sense. She didn’t feel the smile pull at the corners of her lips as she thought on just what, exactly, he had felt or envisioned with his eyes closed not long ago.

 

When she opened her eyes again Fred was staring at her intently, a quizzical expression on his face.

“What?” She was startled by the way he was watching her.

“We thought you’d dozed off, Tasha’s been calling your name for five minutes.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She spun to face the artist who was collecting a hand mirror so she could better view the finished feather.

“It’s alright. You’d be surprised how often people fall asleep.” She gave a little laugh and handed the mirror over.

 

The feather was exactly what she’d hoped for. The reds, oranges, and yellows flowing into one another like the flame on a matchstick. The shape of it both delicate and precise, not too soft and not too hard in any one place. She smiled and thanked Tasha profusely after letting her heal the skin. They paid, leaving a sizable tip, and took a few extra business cards to give to anyone who might be interested in Tasha’s services. It wasn’t every day you found a tattoo artist who specialized in both Muggle and magical styles.

 

“That was…” Fred started as they stood in the quiet of the street, the time had passed quicker than they realised in the shop.

“It was amazing.” Hermione smiled up at him, trailing her fingers over her collarbone.

“So, why a Phoenix feather?”

“A reminder of sorts. Pain is temporary. When this is over, I will be reborn.” He smiled softly at her answer, eyes dancing across the design and back to her face.

“I just wanted something to remind me of where we started from. George and I wouldn’t have been nearly as successful without the map…”

“I think it’s a lovely idea. You barely notice the scars now, unless you look for them.” She ran her fingers over where she knew the ridges would be, watching as the banner flickered back and forth.

“Which are you feeling right now? Are you up for a bit more mischief, or are you ready to head back?” She looked back up at him, fingers still lingering. His eyes flickered back at her with something she couldn’t quite identify. With a soft “pop” he side-along apparated her back to her flat.

 

“So, what were you thinking. Now that we’re here…” she whispered, steadying herself on his forearm from the shock of the sudden sensation of being pulled through a small tube.

“I… um… I’m not entirely sure why I brought us here…” He trailed off as she straightened up, but didn’t move away from him. Her eyes caught his and she saw that same flicker of something she couldn’t place.

 

Just as suddenly as they had arrived she found herself inching ever closer to him, her fingers trailing over his arm and onto his chest. Before she fully knew what was going on, he leaned down and brought his lips gently to hers.


	9. This is for Keeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I wasn’t supposed to have internet access this past weekend, but the friend I stayed with for the gig was able to finagle wifi and writing time for me. That means I was able to write and edit before tonight so I could post! This is the last really short chapter for a while, they’ll start getting much longer with the next one. So yeah for my Prongs! She’s the real MVP. Title is from Spill Canvas.
> 
> Warning: No specific warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**This is for Keeps**

His lips were warm and dry against her own, softer than she expected. Her stomach flipped nervously, a riot of butterflies making her body buzz. She pushed against him, letting him encircle her with his arms. The kiss deepened as he tightened his hold on her, better angling himself against her smaller frame. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip, her body reverting to the need for more she’d become all too comfortable with the past few weeks. He granted her entrance, setting a slow and gentle pace in contrast to the rushed fumbling her body craved. This was not the rutting against bathroom walls and alleyway brick she was accustomed to. Her mind was at odds with itself, fighting over the importance of physical or emotional fulfillment first. After a few minutes, he pulled away, both of them gasping for breath. He made to speak, but she stopped him with a crushing kiss. She pulled him toward the sofa, letting them tumble in a tangle of limbs.

He groaned as she guided him over the top of her, tangling her hands in his hair. She sighed as he moved his lips to trail kisses over the column of her neck. He licked and nipped at the skin, sucking the flesh between his teeth to mark her. She groaned and arched her head into the cushions, giving him better access to where her neck and shoulder joined. He kissed across her collarbone, taking extra time over her tattoo. His hands gripped her hips as she pressed up into him, running her hands over his back and shoulders. She sought his lips again, tongues dancing and teeth playing at lips. Her breathing was rapidly becoming laboured, the dilation in her eyes unmistakable as he tried to read what she wanted. She licked her lips and latched onto his neck, marking him the way he had her as she guided his hand to her breast. He groaned as he massaged her chest, exposing his neck further to her wandering mouth. She dropped back onto the sofa with a moan when he tweaked her nipple through her dress. The skirt of her dress was hiking ever higher with every movement she made, exposing her heated flesh to the cold of the room. He kissed down her chest, beginning to peel back the fabric of her dress as she groaned. Alarm bells rang out in the chaos of her thoughts, silencing the debate in her brain.

“Fred…” she panted, holding his hands still against her.  
“Do you want me to stop?” He whispered, his voice concerned as he moved his face away from her chest to look into her eyes.  
“I think we have to.” The admission took all her self-control. He nodded and moved his hands away, maneuvering himself behind her and wrapping her in his arms again. She could feel his erection pressing into her back, regret edging into her thoughts at the sensation.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be.” He kissed the side of her neck just below her ear and relaxed into her.

They lay in silence, hearts hammering in the dark, for what felt like an eternity. She worried her bottom lip, trying to find a way to make the words come out. He felt her tense and hugged her tighter to him, wanting to ease away whatever it was that was upsetting her.  
“I don’t want it to be like it is with other men. Not with you.” She whispered suddenly. He let out a long breath neither realised he was holding.  
“I can’t be who you hide your pain in, Hermione. I want to be what makes you feel. Whatever this is we’ve been dancing around? It’s got to be for more than sex. I can’t be another notch on your bedpost.” His voice was heavy with conviction.  
“There’s no going back from this now. We’ve crossed a line.” Her voice was fearful, barely audible.  
“I’ve been trying to cross that line since you kicked Ron out.” He admitted with a slight quaver.  
“I know.” She breathed, turning in his arms to bury her face in his chest.  
“Whatever we do from here, I’m all in. You have to know that. Even if it takes years, I’ll wait for you to be ready.” He promised. She didn’t respond, but he felt the tears through his shirt.

He nestled his cheek in her hair keeping his grip on her firm but not too tight. They’d been circling for weeks, both not quite ready to face the inevitable. He knew, deep down, this was still too fast. He also knew there would be no undoing things now, no pretending the night hadn’t happened. He promised himself they would do things the right way, taking their time to learn what worked and what didn’t. He didn’t want to be a repeat of his brother, something that happened too quickly for either of them to fully enjoy. Even if this didn’t work in the long run, he wanted to savour the slow fall of it all. He hoped she did too.

Wrapped in the warmth and safety of him, she mourned the mistakes of her past. She drowned the regrets of rash decisions made to punish both herself and a man who had long since stopped caring. If it had been anyone else, she’d have taken her pleasure by now and disappeared into the night. She’d be adding another regret to her list. Not with Fred. Never with Fred. She was capable of saying “no”, of pulling back and making herself wait. He would still be there in the morning, no matter what. He would still care how she felt about it all the next day. There would be no vanishing without a trace with him. Fred was playing for keeps. The thought both terrified and comforted her. Her tears became fewer and her breathing evener. It wasn’t long before she’d started to drift to sleep.

Noticing she was nodding off, Fred shook her gently before forcing them both into a seated position.

“Let’s get you to bed, it’s been a long night.” He whispered, helping her to stand and leading her back toward the hallway.  
“Will you stay?” Her voice was small and raw. He did not like the fear that edged the question.  
“Do you want me to?” He tried to keep his voice even, not wanting to push her one way of the other.  
“Please.” She whispered, stopping to stare up at him at the threshold of the door.  
“Of course.” He breathed, planting a gentle kiss on her hairline. With a small smile, she took his hand and led him into the room.

She slipped into the closet, changing into her pajamas as he stripped to his vest and shorts. Neither said a word as they settled under the blankets, twining their fingers together as they assumed a position that was becoming second nature. She tucked into the nook at his side, her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulder. They spoke no more, settling into the familiarity of the closeness. Talk could wait another night, now was the time to rest.

* * *

 

Hermione roused from a deep sleep, something wasn’t quite right. She stiffened, hearing a whimper close to her head. She pushed back, letting the room come into focus. Remembering who was in her bed, she sat up suddenly and turned to the man next to her. His face was contorted, tears sliding down his cheeks as the occasional whimper escaped his lips.

“Fred?” She called to him softly, gently stroking a hand down his cheek. He pushed into the touch but didn’t wake.  
“Fred? Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” She spoke a little louder, brushing the tears from his cheeks. His face relaxed slightly, his breath hitching.  
“Wha…” he opened his eyes, unfocused and bleary as he sought out her face in the dark.  
“Are you okay?” She whispered, smoothing a hand over his cheek again as he sat up.  
“I’m fine. Sorry, I woke you.” He croaked.  
“You were whimpering and crying…” she started.  
“It was a flashback. At least I think it was…” he interrupted, taking her hands in his and focusing on them instead of her worried face.  
“About the battle?”  
“Yeah. It happens sometimes.” He swallowed and brought his eyes up to hers.  
“You’ve never mentioned them.” Her tone was more concerned than accusatory, he blushed slightly in response, but she didn’t notice.  
“I felt silly. A grown man having nightmares…”  
“You stop that. There is nothing silly about the nightmares you’re having. You went through a major trauma, Fred. Even if you say you don’t remember it, your subconscious obviously does. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She lectured at him, the know-it-all bossy tone making him smirk. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and kissing her again. He sighed as his pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers.  
“Sorry…”  
“Don’t be.” She parroted back to him in an echo of their earlier interaction.

She initiated the next kiss, taking his face in her hands. She kept things gentle and slow, resisting the urge to take more from him. She pecked him repeatedly before peppering his face with featherlight kisses. He sat still, enjoying the unexpected attention. She finished with a long kiss on his lips, dropping her hands to her lap as she pulled away. He leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, eliciting a low growl from her.  
“Fred…”  
“Just kisses, I promise. Nothing more.” She nodded as he continued to brush his lips against the skin of her neck and back up to her face. He kissed her closed eyelids and pulled away, settling against the headboard. She sighed softly and opened her eyes again. His eyes were sweeping over her face, searching for an indication of what would happen next. He was not expecting her to break into tears.  
“‘Mione?” he launched himself forward, grabbing her shoulders.  
“How can you be so… so… so…” She stuttered.  
“So what? Did I do something wrong?” He tried to tamp down the fear in his chest.  
“No! The opposite. You did everything right. It’s me who’s wrong.” She choked out.  
“I don’t understand…” he shook his head, taking one hand and turning her chin so she had to look at him.  
“You were in distress and instead of talking about it you’re sitting here kissing my neck and…”  
“Stop. If I wanted to talk about it right now, we would be. I wanted to kiss you. I always want to kiss you.” He leaned in and kissed her again to prove his point.  
“I just don’t want everything between us to become physical. I need more than that. You deserve more than that.” She nodded with authority, her eyes pleading him to understand.  
“You deserve better than that too, love. This won’t be just about sex, I promise. You just have to trust me not to take advantage of you. I know it’s not what you’re used to right now.” He pulled her into an embrace, her tears mostly gone now.  
“Okay,” she whispered, hugging him back.  
“Do you want me to go home? Is it going to be too difficult for me to be here?” He offered.  
“Don’t leave.” Mild panic caused her to stiffen in his arms.  
“I won’t. Not until you want me to.” He leaned them back onto the mattress, pulling the blankets back around them. He held her to his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head.


	10. Dive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: My show opens this weekend so things are a bit nuts this week on top of my accident on Tuesday. The next one may not be out for a week or more depending on how things go this weekend. Title is after the Ed Sheeran song.
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Light smut. References to self-harm.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Dive**

Fred woke before she did, smiling softly at the feel of her nestled up against him. It wasn’t the first time, but this morning felt different. His body thrummed with something new and unidentifiable with every breath he took in, the subtle scent of her citrus shampoo filling his lungs and sending his brain into a dizzying bliss. Whether they’d been ready for it or not, something had most definitely shifted in their relationship. He was absolutely certain she could ask him to do anything for her and he would do it without question. She was everything he’d wished for and he’d do anything to keep her.

 

Since the first night he’d held her in front of the fire with his soul laid bare, he’d craved more moments like this. He’d hoped for nights and mornings wrapped in each other's arms like this, enveloped in a comfortable silence. He’d dreamed of the way her lips would feel against his own, the taste of her skin under his tongue, the tickle of her breath across his skin, and the noises she might make if he were to touch her the way he really wanted to. But he hadn’t made a move to make any of his dreams a reality. Until last night. It was one of the best birthdays he’d ever had. Turning twenty-one was turning out to be a chance at a new beginning. Both with her and with himself.

 

He may have skipped the traditional family dinner, but the night had been even better without it. He couldn’t wait to show George his new tattoo and inevitably take him to Tasha to get his own. He knew his twin would be relieved to see something besides scars or glamoured flesh underneath his shirt sleeves. Covering the scars Hermione knew almost as intimately as he did was what had finally given him the courage to close the distance between them. They’d come so close before, but the waiting had been worth it. It hadn’t been the romantic moment he’d dreamed up in his head, it had been something better. The impulsivity of the action better reflected the way they’d come together than any grand gesture might have done. He breathed in deep at the memory of her lips, the scent of her hair overwhelming his senses again. He couldn’t resist the urge to run his fingers through her chestnut curls and bring the strands closer to his nose.

 

He loved the way her hair seemed to have a will of its own, twisting every which way and refusing to settle neatly without the use of magic. He could happily get lost in her curls for hours, and very well would have last night if he hadn’t been so nervous it would make her uncomfortable. A slight fear niggled at the edges of his mind. What if she changed her mind and didn’t want this? What if it was too much and he lost her completely? All he wanted was her, but what if she didn’t feel the same? He could feel his heartbeat increase in his chest as the thoughts continued to spin at high velocity. He stalled his fingers in her hair, struggling to even out his breathing. He swallowed and took a slow breath through his nose.

 

She stirred slightly next to him, her hand grasping the neckline of his vest as she pressed against his side.

 

“Why did you stop?” she murmured sleepily.

“You’re awake?” he whispered, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

“I have been for a little while, just enjoying the quiet.” She admitted, her tone slightly shy.

“Me too. Your hair smells amazing by the way…” he rumbled as he leaned his head down and took a long sniff.

“You have a thing for my hair.” She teased him as the fingers that had grasped his collar now ghosted over his neck and chin.

“Maybe I do. Or maybe I just have a thing for you.” He chuckled lightly.

“Kiss me?” She asked suddenly, sliding up the bed to bring her face level with his.

 

When she settled he smiled and brought his palm to her cheek, leaning over her and kissing her gently. He groaned subconsciously when she pulled him into a deeper kiss, wrapping her arms around him. They kissed lazily, tongues and teeth teasing gently between contented sighs. She tangled her hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently and scratching softly at his scalp. He groaned and slid his own hands away from her face and down to her waist, pressing her even closer to him. He wasn’t sure how much closer they could really get. It was getting harder to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

 

He kissed down her chin to her throat, grazing the delicate skin with his teeth as she continued to tug at his hair. He lapped at the hollow of her throat, nipping at her collarbone. He felt her shiver beneath him in contrast to the heat radiating off of her skin under his mouth. He wondered if he should stop. Weren’t they trying to avoid getting too physical? He rubbed his hands up and down her torso, stopping just beneath her breasts.

 

“Can I? Or do you want to stop?” he whispered.

“Don’t stop…” she breathed, urging him back to her neck. He smirked at the neediness in her voice and took his time peppering her with tiny kisses. The passion from the night before simmered beneath the surface while his natural playfulness took the reins.

 

He tickled at her sides, making her arch and squirm against him. The startled little giggles that escaped her made him smile against her skin as he continued his journey across her exposed skin. She moaned as he slid his palms under her top and onto her breasts. He massaged lightly, noticing how her nipples slowly pebbled against his palms. He kissed her deeply, drawing the air from her lungs into his own. His groping became more urgent as she released his hair to claw at his back and shoulders. He pulled back and caged her between his arms beneath him.

“Sweet Circe I could get used to mornings like this…” he panted.

“We haven’t even done anything…” her brows knit in confusion with a little shake of her head.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing.” he chuckled at her as he trailed a finger over the small marks he’d left across her neck and chest.

“Don’t you want more? Ron always…”

“Stop. I don’t want to know what Ron was like in bed. Though I’m guessing he wasn’t a fan of foreplay if you think snogging and copping a feel isn’t just as enjoyable for me as it is for you.” He grumbled at the thought of his younger brother in bed with her.

“You don’t want anything then? I feel like I’m getting all the attention here.” She argued. He pressed his erection against her in response, making her brows fly up.

“I’m getting plenty of enjoyment out of this, Hermione. What I want is to make you cum. Let me make you feel good?” he growled low in her ear.

“I still don’t think we should have sex…” she breathed back as he nibbled on her earlobe.

“Not sex. Not yet.”

“Then what?” She gasped as he ghosted a hand between her legs, settling himself onto one arm.

“I want to touch you. To taste you. Until you come undone. Can I do that for you, please?” He stilled his hand over the heat radiating from her sex through her pyjamas.

“Fred, I… I don’t know… no one has ever… not without sex…” She stumbled over her words as he blew gently across her ear. Tingles shot down her spine without him even touching her.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you want me to stop, I will.” She could hear the conviction in his voice.

“Touch me.” She nodded, voice barely audible.

“Are you sure?” He didn’t make a move, giving her another chance to change her mind.

“Please…” she begged, bucking her lips to close the short distance between his hand and her body. It was all the confirmation he needed.

 

He kissed her again, harder this time than before. As their tongues danced he brought his hand partway back up her body and slowly slid it beneath her waistband. He tried not to crow in victory when he felt how wet she was. He ran his fingers through her folds several times before withdrawing and pulling back from her. He rearranged himself over her and kissed down to her nipples, pulling on them with his teeth through the fabric of her top. She moaned and reached down for the hem, pulling it off before he got a chance to do it himself.

 

She was as gorgeous as he’d imagined. Maybe more.  Her skin was not perfect, which he found infinitely more attractive. Her creamy flesh was lightly freckled where the sun might hit in a bathing suit, something he had not considered. She had several scars, some he’d already known about. He’d not expected to find one just below her right breast. He made a mental note to ask her about it someday, right now he just wanted to run his tongue across it. So he did, before taking each nipple in turn until he was satisfied both had received sufficient attention. He kissed down her stomach and nipped at both her hipbones, making her squeak.

 

He looked up to watch her reaction as he kissed and licked his way to her waistband. He hesitated for a moment until he saw the fire in her eyes, taking it has a sign that he could continue. He pulled her knickers and pyjamas off as one before spreading her legs open before him. He saw her bite her lip in anticipation as he crawled forward and licked her for the first time. The noise she made nearly made him come undone as he tasted the salt and sweet of her essence.

 

“Sweet Merlin! Oh, Fred… that feels so good.” She cried and gripped the sheets, arching her back.

 

He continued to lap at her folds, slowing working a finger inside her now. She moaned and bucked against his face and fingers. He nibbled lightly on her clit, drawing out a long moan, desperate with need. He could feel her clamp around his finger as he worked to find the sensitive spot he knew was there. He knew when he’d hit the right area when she cried out louder than she had before. He worked a second finger in with the first, continuing his ministrations of her sensitive nub all the while. It didn’t take much longer before he felt her begin to shake against him, her orgasm close. He sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth harder than he had before and felt her thighs quake as she began to unravel. Her cry was incomprehensible, a mix of partial words and animalistic noises. He stopped as she came back down, sliding up the bed to take her in his arms.

 

“Wait…” she rolled to face him, eyes still a little unfocused and breathing coming more as pants.

“What?” he shook his head in confusion.

 

He sucked air loudly through his teeth when he felt her hand fly down the front of his shorts and grip his length. He had not been expecting anything in return. It only took a few tugs for him to spill into her hand as keyed up as he’d been.

 

“You didn’t have to do that…” He chastised, kissing her on the forehead.

“Didn’t really do much.” She teased.

“It’s the noises you make, love. I could cum just listening to you.” He admitted the tips of his ears warming.

“Oh. That’s… I… um… I really don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just come here.” He pulled her into his chest and sighed happily as their hearts slowed from a hammer to a normal rhythm together.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Hermione sat up and wordlessly summoned her pyjamas back to her, quickly slipping them on and snuggling into his arms again.

“Of course.”

“How did you learn to… that is… I’ve never been with someone who can…” He could hear the blush in her voice even without looking at her.

“Are you trying to ask how I got good at eating pussy?” He chuckled, his chest rattling next to her cheek.

“Not in such crass language, but yes. That’s what I’m trying to ask.”  She huffed.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I actually learned from Bill.”

“Bill, as in, your brother Bill?” She sounded amused.

“Yep. Dad gave George and I the sex talk when the time came, how all the parts worked and what not. The next night Bill slipped into our room and explained the rest. The different things you could do and what girls like. He thought it was his responsibility to make sure there weren’t any Weasleys running around who were shite in the sack.” He laughed and shook his head at the memory.

“Remind me to send him a thank you note.” She joked back, squeaking when he tickled her in retaliation.

“You’ll do no such thing! I won’t have the bloody git lording it over me forever. You know every time he’s busted me so much as snogging a girl he waggles his eyebrows at me? He thinks the whole of my love life is thanks to his explanation of how to lick a woman the right way.” He grumbled.

“I still think a thank you might be in order. I don’t think I’ve ever climaxed like that before.” She admitted with a little laugh.

“Really?” He sounded surprised.

“Really.” She confirmed, not noticing the smirk that crossed his face.

“Want to try for a second?” he rolled on top of her and started the process all over again.

 

* * *

 

When they eventually left the bed, Hermione insisted on separate showers. Fred supposed there were some things they would still have to work up to, no matter how close they already were. Part of him honestly didn’t think he’d be able to control himself quite so easily in that scenario. He’d been dreaming about shower sex with her since the day they’d conversed through the shower curtain. Being so close to having the real thing and not being able to make a move was not a situation he wanted to put himself in right now. When they’d worked things out and she was ready, they’d broach the subject again.

 

He wasn’t surprised to see one of the shop owls waiting at her kitchen window as he put on the kettle for tea when she got out of the shower. It was a note from George checking to make sure everything was okay. He jotted out a quick response, not revealing what had happened the night before, and promised to meet him later for dinner. He’d be taking the day off from the store today. Satisfied that he’d given his twin enough information to keep him from just popping by, he set to work making sandwiches for lunch. They’d slept late, to begin with, and after spending so long in bed this morning he was famished. He was sure she would be too and wanted to have things ready when she emerged.

 

Underneath the spray of the water, Hermione ran the last few weeks through her mind. It wasn’t entirely clear to her how they’d gone from dancing around an attraction to each other to discussing shared showers in such a short amount of time. Things had never moved this quickly for her before, not with anyone she intended on seeing again. It had taken months with Viktor and years with Ron. She decided it must be different when the pull started from the soul instead of from the libido. She knew they were both irreparably twisted from the war, but she wouldn’t dare to try to “fix” him. So long as he was not cutting himself open she had no qualms about navigating the emotional minefield she knew existed within him. It wasn’t entirely different from the one that resided inside herself. Maybe that’s what was drawing them to each other. Perhaps their twisted pieces fit together into something beautiful.

 

She was still reeling from how unselfish Fred was. He could have pressed her to reciprocate and she would have, without question, but he hadn’t. He’d nearly chastised her outright for going for it on her own. She wasn’t used to the feel of a tongue between her legs. Not that Ron hadn’t tried, he just couldn’t dedicate himself to the task long enough to get her off. It hadn’t taken Fred all that long, she’d noticed, he had a definite skill for reading her body’s reactions. Bill may have provided the theory on pleasing a witch, but Fred had a clear instinct when it came to picking up subtle signs. She didn’t even know she liked to be bitten nearly as much as he’d caught on. He’d nibbled her all over and when he’d done it as he licked her… she nearly came again just remembering the sensation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a satisfying orgasm. And here she’d had two in such a short span of time. This was a totally different feeling than when she stumbled home from the pubs.

 

A slight pang of guilt roiled her stomach. The encounters she’d had with complete strangers began to flood the forefront of her mind. She still didn’t completely understand why she’d felt so compelled to seek out strange men for such an intimate act. Especially when it was so out of character for her. She wasn’t one to trust easily in most scenarios, but for some reason, she was willing to give up her body to just about anybody. There were so many things that she couldn’t make sense of anymore. She was still holding out hope that something would click into place and she’d feel back to normal again. It hadn’t happened. She was still searching for a mental healer to talk to or a support group she and Fred could go to together. There must be something or someone out there, she just hadn’t found them yet.

 

She could hear Fred feeding Crookshanks in the kitchen, the cranky beast vocalizing in irritation at the man’s inability to instinctively know exactly how the cat liked his food prepared. She chuckled to herself in realisation that the beast had stayed away from the room last night and this morning. He hadn’t done that since Ron had first moved in and they were still getting amorous with one another. She wondered if the animal had a sense of these things. He’d taken to Fred’s frequent presence well enough and even seemed happy to see him sometimes. She’d heard someone say once that animals were a better judge of character than people. Maybe they were right. She smiled to herself at the thought that Crookshanks would approve of her choice in partner this time around as she turned off the water and summoned a towel.

 

When she stepped out into the hallway she caught Fred rubbing Crookshank’s belly on the hallway floor. She laughed and tossed her head back in surprise.

 

“He’s taken to you rather quickly if he’s not trying to claw your arm off right now.” She beamed at him, still clutching the towel to her.

“Crooks isn’t so bad. Just picky I think. Animals are a good judge of character, you know?” He stood and grinned lopsidedly at her.

“I’ve heard that, yes.” She stifled the urge to accuse him of reading her mind.

“George owled to make sure we were both okay. I told him all is well and we’ll meet him later for dinner. I’ve the day off today.”

“Alright then. Why don’t you have a shower and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with the rest of the day once you’re done?” She smiled when he stopped to kiss her on his way into the bathroom. This was something she could get used to.  

  



	11. Meanwhile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A brief interlude in the action. I wanted to get at least a little something out before I disappear for a long weekend of shows. Nods to irish_angel on AO3 for the idea. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled chapters next week.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Meanwhile**

 

George paced his living room impatiently waiting for a return owl. He was fairly certain Fred would be at Hermione’s, as that was who he said he was with when he’d opted to skip out on their birthday dinner the night before. He was mildly irritated that his twin had not even bothered to come back to their flat even when the party at The Burrow was long over. He could forgive him not showing for dinner, he’d let mum be angry about that one, but he wasn’t a fan of not knowing where his brother was now. They’d agreed to leave the shop to Verity and Lee to handle for the day since April 2nd was generally a slow business day for them. They were meant to spend the day hanging out and getting up to their usual brotherly mischief. George had been looking forward to a slight bit of normalcy to their interactions now that Fred seemed more in control of himself than he’d been since the war.

 

He sighed and continued to pace, ruffling his hair with his hands as he huffed to himself. It wasn’t much longer before the owl reappeared. He rushed over to the living room window, letting the animal in and setting the entire bowl of owl treats in front of it to pick at while he impatiently unfurled the short letter.

 

George,

 

I’m fine, I promise. More than fine, actually. I’ll tell you all about it later. I have a surprise to show you, and if you’re agreeable I’ll take you to get your own. I know mum will be right angry with me not showing for dinner last night. I don’t suppose you’ll have done anything to try and smooth that over? Of course not…

 

I am indeed at Hermione’s, I needed a bit of a night away. Nothing to concern yourself over, dear brother. We’ll both be there to take you to dinner as we’d originally planned. I know this isn’t what he initially agreed to, but I think you’ll like why I missed our day out.

 

-Fred

 

“Good Godric, they’ve finally done it. About time too.” George smiled to himself and busied himself making a spot of lunch, he could be angry at the change of plans later.

* * *

 

Bill was startled to find a rather large bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle of his desk when he came back from work. Generally, when this happened it was because he’d ordered something to bring home to Fleur, but he couldn’t remember doing that recently… He pulled the card out from among the vibrant mix of blooms and tipped his head back uproariously at what it said. He couldn’t wait to show it to his wife, she’d certainly love the sentiment. He flooed her immediately, asking her to pop over for a moment.

 

“What is this all about, Bill? You interrupt my day to come by your office when I have one million things to get done…” she chastised, trailing off when she saw the flowers.

 

“What is this?” she knit her brows in confusion, Bill didn’t generally have her come fetch her own flowers if he bought her some.

 

“Someone has sent me flowers.” he laughed, handing her the small card before she could ask who.

 

“Oh, it has no signature… ‘Dear Bill, the women of the world thank you for your attempts to make the Weasley men less clueless about the wants of women. Might I suggest you pass this particular knowledge on to your youngest brother? I do not believe the twins have done so. With appreciation, a satisfied customer.’ This is hilarious!” She tipped her head back with a laugh and handed the card back to her husband.

 

“Whoever Fred spent last night with appears to be benefitting from my brotherly knowledge.” He smirked and handed the bouquet to her to take home.

 

“You’ll not let him live this down will you?” She smirked, kissing him on the cheek and preparing to floo home.

 

“Not a chance!” He shook his head with another laugh as he settled in behind his desk.


	12. Everlong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m finally back to updating this one. The last several months have been a roller coaster, as I’m sure the next several will be too. I ended a nine-year relationship/engagement around Christmas time and adjusting to that life change has been difficult. I do not have an update schedule at this time when I do I will announce it! Thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this. Double thanks to those that have reached out with encouraging words both personally and about the fic, I really appreciate it. I didn’t want to make you wait any longer so a short one will have to do. Title is the Foo Fighters song.

******Everlong**

Fred had trouble concentrating as he stood under the hot stream of water. It had been far too long since he’d truly enjoyed fooling around with a partner. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what it would be like to have sex with her for the first time. Part of him knew that if he’d pushed, even just a little, she would have given in. That was exactly why they couldn’t. Not yet. Hermione didn’t seem like the kind of woman to weaponize sex, but it still wasn’t just physical to her either. There were strings that had nothing to do with a relationship. Whatever she was hiding from, she was burying it in anonymous sex, that much he had guessed. When the time came he wanted to be sure that it was just the two of them in the room and not the litany of ghosts that seemed to hide behind her eyes.

 

He couldn’t stop himself from using a little more of her shampoo and soap than was entirely necessary. He liked the idea of having her scent close to him and maybe if he covered himself with some of it he could stop himself from constantly burying his face in her hair. Now that they’d finally crossed the line from friends to something more, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be subtle. He vaguely wondered if maybe she was worrying about the same things he was.

 

He could hear the wireless turn on as he turned off the spray of water. Hermione was singing along to a song he didn’t recognize. Likely something Muggle she’d need to explain to him in detail. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. One of the things he really liked about her was that she hadn’t grown up with magic. She had this whole other world she could show him. Maybe someday she would.

 

There were more secrets and unknowns when it came to her than he would usually be comfortable with. He had a feeling there was more to many of the stories he’d heard of her exploits with Harry and his little brother. He wanted to know more about her scars and the skeletons she hid in her closet. There was so much he knew without really knowing anything about her. She would certainly be a puzzle worth trying to solve.

  
  
  


Lunch passed in comfortable silence, both enjoying the other’s company in the easiness of the afternoon. Hermione tried not to let her thoughts run away from her each time she looked up and caught Fred watching. Her chest tightened with a mix of happiness and anxiety. She didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It was both unexpected and terrifying. She wasn’t exactly sure how to express how much him still being there really meant to her. She couldn’t help but wonder whether he was feeling the same thing. For now, though, he seemed content with her lack of words and the low hum of the radio.

 

“Where do you suppose George wants to go to dinner tonight? We should probably let him pick since we didn’t show last night…”

“Honestly? I’ll be surprised if he wants to go anywhere at all. Mum will have sent him home with enough food to last a week. And that’s assuming he doesn’t drag us back over there as payback for not showing up last night,” he smirked at her, the old mischievous twinkle she so missed flickering in his eyes.

“Oh no! Do you think your mum will be particularly cross? If I’m honest, she scares me a little when she’s angry…” Fred laughed at the concerned look on her face.

“She’ll have been fairly miffed last night, but it will have mostly passed by now. Might be worth it to drop in this week for a visit to smooth things over.” He shrugged as he finished the last of his sandwich.

“Let me know if you’d like me to go with you, alright?” she offered as she cleared their plates to the sink. A quick flick of her wand turned up the volume of the music and she hummed along as she busied herself cleaning up, banishing Fred to the living room since he’d fixed lunch.

 

Fred noticed they had more time than he’d expected according to the clock on her mantle. The passing of time had not been something he much cared about before the war. Now he wondered why he couldn’t seem to tell the difference between hours and days passing. It was never more confusing than when he was with Hermione. Time didn’t seem to pass the way it should, alternating between moving much too slowly and entirely too quick. They’d spent so much time in bed this morning he had assumed it was late afternoon by now. Then again, neither of them was sleeping regular hours these days. For all he knew they’d woken at 4 or 5 and not had the leisurely lie in he thought they had. He vaguely wondered what they could do for the rest of the day until it was time to meet George at their flat.

 

“Everything alright?” her voice was laced with concern as she reached over and lay a hand on his crossed arms.

“Hmmm? Yes, everything’s fine.” He shook off the haze he’d been in, not noticing that he’d zoned out.

“You seem to be transfixed by my clock…”

“I was just realising we had more time than I anticipated. We’ll have some time to ourselves for a bit.” He smiled as he turned to her.

“What were you thinking?”

“Have you ever seen our rooftop?”

“You’re rooftop? No, I don’t think so…” her brows knit together in confusion.

“Grab your coat, I think we’ll head over a little early.” He beamed at her as she summoned her things with a small smile playing on her lips.

 

Fred ducked into his bedroom to change into clean clothes straight away. He was giddy with anticipation to see Hermione’s reaction to what awaited her. He flicked on the wireless to the same station they’d been listening to and moved it to the window ledge by the fire escape that led to the roof. He offered her his hand to help her over the sill, knowing that she didn’t need it but wanting an excuse to hold her hand for a few moments. She accepted and took longer than necessary to drop it and begin her ascent to the roof.

 

“Oh my…” Hermione gasped when she saw the gorgeous garden that covered the top of the building. She didn’t seem to hear him begin to explain the purpose of the space. He smiled and stayed back as she took it all in.

 

She would never have guessed that it was there from the street view. It was what her mum would have called a witch’s garden. There was a mix of herbs used for culinary purposes, poisonous plants good for natural dyes, and more than a few great for potion making. She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands through the variety of plants and flowers that lined the small pathway that seemed to snake and loop around the roof. She wondered if there was some sort of expansion charm at work to make everything fit.

 

Without thinking, she slipped out of her shoes and socks and started to walk barefoot along the damp grass and dirt. She sighed happily, a rush of memories from childhood summers spent running barefoot through her gran’s garden cascading over her. She seemed to sway with the memories as the music from below drifted to her ears. She looked over her shoulder and tried to tamp down her embarrassment at her reaction when she saw how intensely Fred was watching her.

 

It didn’t take long for his long legs to deliver him to her side. Before she could say a word of apology for tuning out his explanations at their rooftop project, he shushed her with a little laugh. He put one hand on her waist and took one of hers up in his own as he started to dance her around the garden without a second thought. She laughed in surprise but didn’t stop him from twirling her around the beautiful space. They could barely hear the music playing back inside, but enough was floating out into the afternoon to guide their slow progress across the grass. The earth was slightly icy cold against her bare feet, she hadn’t considered the April chill when she’d decided to ground herself in the dirt. She stepped slightly closer to him and sighed as he wrapped himself around her, cocooning her in his warmth. She hadn’t even noticed she was cold until she felt the heat radiating off him. The sound of his heart beating beneath her ear was infinitely more soothing to her than any music.

 

Fred breathed in the scent of her. The source much better than his half-baked plan to try and replicate it on his own skin. She was so fragile and still so strong in his arms. He couldn’t comprehend how Ron could have ever let her go. He didn’t even technically have her yet and he couldn’t fathom ever not being with her. He was already imagining them old and gray together dancing in a garden similar to this one behind a house that would be theirs. He didn’t know when he’d decided she was his forever, but it felt like he’d waited a lifetime to come to that conclusion.

 

Hermione tilted her head and pressed onto her toes, bringing her lips to his. The air was heavy with a magic she had never felt before, prickling at the edges of her own power source. She knew at that moment that she was right where she was supposed to be and with who she was supposed to be with. A powerful desire to feel his lips on hers again sealed the memory for her, she didn’t want to let this go. She hoped that when the panic and terror came crashing down around her again she could recall this moment and bring herself out of it. She wished with everything she had that when the urge to self-destruct was strong her desire to feel like this forever would be stronger. There was something just right in their imperfection. Something wonderful about how the twist in him fit so perfectly with the twist in herself.

 

He deepened the kiss as he cupped her face in his hands. He was flooded with so many sensations in that moment that he had not expected. Mum had told him that a proper witch’s garden carried its own magic and could sway things when tended properly. He imagined that that natural magic was playing a part in how they felt just now. Even the plants could sense how their pieces fit together. He could smell Jasmine in the air, portending love and happiness. He smiled as his lips continued to move over hers with the realisation. He’d have to remember to ask mum more about the magic of gardening…

  
  
  



	13. How Would You Feel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks so much for your continued patience everyone! Beginning today, this fic will update every Wednesday. =) Title is the Ed Sheeran song.

 

**How Would You Feel?**

 

Fred’s hands roamed over her sides, sliding easily from her ribcage to her hips and back again.  He didn’t know how long they’d been here like this. At some point, his hands had gone from her face to her hair, then from her hair to her hips. He didn’t want to get too wound up, but he also couldn’t help himself from wanting to touch more of her. Whatever energies were at work in the garden, they were certainly fans of him being as close to Hermione as possible. Who was he to disappoint them? 

 

“Why are you smirking?” Hermione giggled as she stepped slightly back from him, breaking a rather long kiss.

 

“I was just thinking that some sort of magic energy is at play in this garden and it must want us as close together as possible. Everything tingles when I get close to you.” He leaned his forehead against hers, catching his breath as he whispered his response. The moment seemed too delicate for full volume.

 

“You feel it too? I thought it was some kind of charm you had on the rooftop,” she slowly pulled her head away to looked around as if the spell would suddenly make itself known in the air around them.

 

“Not that I know of unless George has added something new to it,” he shrugged as he leaned in to kiss her again. 

 

“George!” She all but jumped as she remembered where it was they were supposed to be and with whom.

 

“Bugger. You’re right. We best get down there…” he tried not to groan in frustration as he pulled himself completely away from her.

 

“Fred, wait…” she grabbed the cuff of his shirt and pulled him back to her.

 

“You’re all sixes and sevens…” she tutted her tongue at him as she neatened the way his shirt lay and smoothed his hair back into place. She ran her fingers over his new tattoo with a small smile, she was looking forward to George’s reaction.

 

“Thanks.” He leaned in and kissed the top of her head, making her blush as she turned away to put on her socks and shoes. 

 

“There you two are! I was wondering why the wireless was nearly out the window…” George laughed as they made their way back over the sill. 

“Decided to take Hermione up to see the garden,” Fred explained, letting his twin wrap him in a hug.

 

“Likely story. And where were you two last night, then? Mum nearly had a conniption fit when you didn’t come to dinner.”

 

“Sorry about that, George. I had an idea for a birthday present for Fred and I don’t think it would have gone over well with your mum…” Hermione explained.

 

“Intriguing. What did you get him?” he asked, stepping back from his brother with one eyebrow raised at Hermione. 

 

Fred rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and put it under George’s nose, tapping his wand on it to change the banner of the tattoo back and forth. 

 

“Bloody hell… that’s brilliant!” George nearly yanked Fred’s arm off as he inspected the new ink, trying to discern how it was done.

 

“It’s a mix of Muggle and Magic tattooing,” Hermione explained, tracing her fingers over bits of the image.

 

“This is fantastic. When can I get mine, then?” He asked with a huge grin.

 

“Today if you’d like. I’m sure Tasha can do you one as well.” Hermione offered.

 

“Yeah?” George asked excitedly, nearly bouncing out of his skin.

 

“Thought you’d like it. And since you had to deal with mum’s wrath last night, how about I pay for it?” Fred offered, following after his twin who was rapidly removing his work robes and changing into something less formal. Hermione followed behind the two of them with a laugh as they stumbled through the flat. If George had been upset, it was obviously forgiven now. 

 

The trip to the tattoo parlour went well. They’d had to wait a little while this time for a group of Muggles celebrating a bachelor party to finish up before Tasha could properly ward against curious Muggle eyes and work on George’s tattoo. He’d, unsurprisingly, opted for the same design as his brother. As the map began to take shape on his brother’s arm, Fred unconsciously pulled Hermione into his side as he watched. 

 

“So, when did that happen?” George quirked a brow at them with a little nod at how the two of them were leaning against one another.

 

“Erm… last night actually. Though I’m not sure it’s fully happened yet…” Fred began to explain. 

“What your brother is trying to say is that we’re taking things slow.” Hermione interrupted.

 

“So I shouldn’t have mum start planning the wedding then?” George teased. 

 

“Don’t you dare. That woman goes barmy over weddings.” Fred warned as Hermione tittered next to him. 

 

“You’re all set,” Tasha said as she stood and stretched from where she’d been hunched over, interrupting the bout of awkward laughter George had caused. 

 

“It’s perfect!” Both twins announced in unison as they took turns making the banner change over George’s forearm. Hermione rolled her eyes before mouthing a “thank you” to Tasha a slipping her an additional tip with the payment. 

 

They walked out into the evening, much earlier this time than the night before, and looked around in excitement. 

 

“Where would you like to go for your belated birthday dinner? Hermione asked.

 

“Did mum send you home with a week’s worth of food?” Fred asked. 

 

“She did indeed, brother. But I was thinking I’d really just like some fish and chips. Would you two be opposed to picking up some takeaway from Leaky and taking it back to the flat? Unless you think you can handle being out in public for a bit longer?” George prodded, looking cautiously at Fred. 

 

“I’m alright with eating there if you are,” Hermione answered when Fred looked at her in question. 

 

“That settles it then, to The Leaky Cauldron!” Fred clapped his hands together and they headed back for dinner. 

 

After food and a couple pints a piece, they made their way back to the flat, the two boys activating each other's tattoos as they laughed and led the way. Hermione walked a few steps behind with her hands in her pockets, smiling softly at them. It had been so long since she’d seen Fred being playful with his brother. George was beaming like old times and it made her heart happy to witness it.

 

“Hermione, would you mind terribly setting the kettle on? I’ve got a couple business things to discuss with George before we head up.” Fred asked suddenly, picking up a pile of seemingly random correspondence as they headed toward the back room toward the entrance to the flat.

 

“Sure thing.” Hermione smiled and headed up, leaving the boys to their work. 

 

“Business, brother?” George asked with a confused expression, taking a notebook off the bench and flipping the pages to the most recent experimental results. 

 

“Not exactly…” Fred whispered, straining to hear Hermione upstairs before he continued. 

 

“She’s the one, George, I’m almost sure of it. It’s like the air sparks with something anytime she gets near me. I think I’m falling in love with her.” Fred admitted, hoping that Hermione hadn’t suddenly developed supersonic hearing and was able to hear their hushed conversation over the wireless she’d just turned on.

 

“Hate to break it to you, brother mine, but it’s obvious to me you’re already there. Might have been for awhile now, if I’m honest.” George chuckled as he watched his twin squirm a bit in place.

 

“She’s not ready.” Fred sighed, giving up any attempt at actually working on something and hopping up onto the workbench.

 

“Are you?” George set the notes he’d been perusing aside and locked eyes with him.

 

“I don’t know. For her, I’m willing to try to be.” They were both silent for a few moments as they digested his words.

 

“Are you going to tell her?” George cleared his throat as he unconsciously glanced toward the stairs.

 

“Not yet. I’m not even certain that’s how I’m feeling for sure…”

 

“You are. You know I’m right.” George said matter-of-factly before picking up the same set of notes again.

 

“What if she can’t say it yet? Or she doesn’t feel that way too? I don’t think I could handle it if I told her I loved her and she couldn’t say it back…” George sighed heavily and cut his brother off before he could work himself into a fit.

 

“You may well need to wait then. Don’t rush things. The two of you fell together so quickly... and I like her, Fred. I’d hate to lose her as a friend, but if she breaks your heart I won’t be able to forgive her.”

 

“I know, Georgie, trust me. I know better than you think. I don’t think she could forgive herself if she did that.” Fred hung his head in his hands for a moment, frustrated with himself.

 

“You two said you were taking things slow. So take it slow. Doesn’t matter if you already feel like you’ve skipped several steps. So what? Doesn’t mean you have to talk about it yet.” George suggested, clapping his brother on the back. 

 

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” Fred nodded in agreement before sliding back onto the floor and starting to head up the stairs.

 

“Oi, Fred!” George called suddenly. 

 

“Yeah?” he turned back to look at him.

 

“I’m still here whenever you need. But, for what it’s worth, I like you two together. It suits you.” 

 

“Thanks.” Fred smiled at him before continuing into the flat. 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening had passed uneventfully, as the night wore on Hermione popped home to feed Crookshanks before rejoining them in the flat. When she returned, George had turned in for the night. 

 

“Do you want to see the garden at night? It’s even more gorgeous…” Fred suggested, uncharacteristically nervous. He couldn’t explain the sudden butterflies in his stomach. 

 

“That sounds lovely.” Hermione smiled softly and started toward the window, plucking the wireless off the mantle and sticking her tongue out when Fred laughed. 

 

When they reached the garden again her breath caught in her throat. Paper lanterns that hadn’t been there during the day flickered with candlelight as they floated over the garden. 

 

“You weren’t kidding. It’s somehow even more gorgeous…” she flicked on the wireless and set it on a low volume before placing it on the ground and taking a look around in the dark. Fred watched her with a soft smile, his hands in his pockets. 

 

The same song they danced to earlier came on again, she turned to him with a smile and stuck out her hand to beckon to him. 

 

“They’re playing our song.” Her cheeks flushed as the words tumbled out of her mouth and bit her lip.

 

“Our song?” he questioned as he took her hand in his to begin dancing her around the garden again.

 

“I supposed it is.” She whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder as they swayed in time to the music. 

 

“Being with you makes me feel young again,” Fred whispered several minutes later as the song changed to something equally slow. 

 

“You’re only just twenty-one, Fred. That’s not old at all.” 

 

“But I feel so much older, Hermione. After... everything… it’s hard to feel young anymore. When I’m with you, I don’t feel so old. Things don’t seem so heavy.” He admitted, stopping and tipping her chin up so he could look her in the eyes.

 

“Fred…” she started to blush, her heartbeat picking up speed. 

 

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s a lot to put on you, I just wanted you to know that.” He whispered with a little shake of his head.

 

“Okay.” She whispered back, pushing onto her toes and kissing him on the cheek. 

 

As the song finished, he nodded toward a little bench set closer to the edge of the garden on the opposite side from the fire escape. He spelled the lanterns to a dimmer light so they could better see what stars they could through the light pollution of the surrounding area. She pointed out the constellations she recognized with light teasing from Fred about her ever-present need to educate. Eventually, they just sat in the quiet of the night. Every once in a while Fred would lean over and kiss her forehead as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She felt like maybe it was, fighting the urge to smile like a loon or blush every time he did. Occasionally she turned to study his profile, wondering what he was thinking. Each time he caught her he smirked and squeezed her hand. She had so many questions, but she couldn't make her mouth form the words. There was something special in the silence they shared. 

 

As the stars twinkled above them, becoming more visible at the later hour as businesses and homes turned off their lights, and the scent of the flowers surrounded them she felt her chest ache with something new. This wasn’t the panic and rage she was so used to. This was something different. She was overthinking this, that much she knew for sure, but her awareness of that fact didn’t stop the feeling that was spreading from her chest out through her fingertips and all the way down to her toes. Like her body was awakening from a long bout of numbness. Maybe in some ways, it was. 

 

He wondered what she was thinking as she watched her watching him out of the corner of his eye. Her lips would start to part as if she was going to speak, and just as suddenly they’d close again. He thought something was formulating in that brilliant mind of hers. He desperately wanted to know what it was that had her struggling to form words. His heart stuttered at the thought that it may be the same realisation that was becoming clearer in his own mind. George had been right, as he often was, and he was most certainly already in love with the woman sat beside him. The thought was terrifying that she may be feeling the same way. It was too soon. All of this was happening so quickly. He couldn’t be the one to break the delicate foundation they’d only just begun to build by becoming too intense too quickly. He would wait. He had to.

 

“We’ll have to come up again in the summer. It smells even better up here then, I’m not sure which flowers make it smell the way it does then, but it’s incredible…” he broke the silence for her.

 

“It’s the Clematis. You’ve got it cut back now, but it blooms in late summer. They’re very fragrant.” She offered to his surprise.

 

“How do you know we’ve got Clematis if it’s cut back?” Fred tried to hide the awe in his voice, even mum hadn’t been able to tell all the plants they had worked into the ground plan of the rooftop. 

 

“My gran grew it in her garden too. I recognized the vines. It was planted under the window of the room I stayed in when we visited, I remember the smell wafting into the room on the breeze at night. It was lovely.” She sighed at the memory, temporarily transported back to a time when things were less difficult. 

 

“You don’t talk about your childhood much. Not outside of Hogwarts.” Fred responded, careful to keep his tone even lest he scare her. 

 

“I suppose I don’t. It feels like that life doesn’t belong to me anymore. Someone else lived through that. A different Hermione.”

 

“I think I know what you mean. You know a part of that Hermione still exists in you, yeah? No matter what happens or how disconnected you feel, your past is a part of you just as much as your present is.” Fred gave her hand a little squeeze, causing her to turn and look at him.

 

“It doesn’t feel like that very often anymore. Thank you for sharing this place with me. It’s been nice to remember for a little while.” She kissed his cheek again, unable to fight the seemingly ever-present urge. 

 

“We don’t have to go you know? If you want to stay here tonight I can bring up the sleeping bags and we can stay in the garden. Maybe watch the sun come up in the morning…” he suggested quietly, moving one hand onto her thigh and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

 

“Fred Weasley, that is one of the most romantic notions I think I’ve ever heard from you.” She couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice as she beamed from ear to ear.

 

“Too soon?” Fred bit his lip nervously.

“No… I don’t think it is. I suppose if we’re going to do… whatever this is we’re doing… a romantic notion isn’t a bad thing.” She bit her own lip as she made eye contact with him again.

 

“I’m going to go get those sleeping bags. Maybe some hot cocoa…” Fred smiled as he stood up and started to make his way back to the ladder. 

 

“That would be lovely. Do you mind if I wait here?” He nodded in response, trying to hide his elation at her agreement to his plan.

 

She wandered the rooftop in the dark, trying to identify more of the plants in the fading light of the evening. If she was honest with herself, she was chewing over the options in her mind for whatever it was they were doing with each other. In some ways, it seemed that they’d fallen into dating. It was certainly more than a friends with benefits situation. But was she ready to call Fred her boyfriend? Was he ready for that? She couldn’t be sure. 

 

When Fred returned he laid out the sleeping bags and pillows, charming the grass to act like a soft mattress beneath them. He wasn’t altogether surprised when instead of sliding into her own bag, she charmed the two bags together and crawled in with him. She curled into the warmth of him as they stared at the sky.

 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Her words were barely audible, even in the complete silence since they’d flicked off the wireless. She worried the inside of her lip for a few moments and stiffened when no response came, carefully she leaned up to look at his face and found that Fred was staring down at her intensely.

 

“What did you just say?” he swallowed hard as she made eye contact.

 

“I think I may be falling in love with you. I know we don’t even know what this is yet, but…” he stopped her with a gentle kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth and explored as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

 

“Fred…” she pulled away as her breathing quickened, scared he was avoiding her words.

 

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” he admitted before gathering her in his arms and rolling her underneath him to kiss her again. 

 

She ran her nails up under his shirt and down his back as he kissed and nipped at her neck and earlobe. Her soft moans went right to his crotch, making him groan as he hardened against her body. He rocked carefully against her as she spread her legs and wrapped them around him. She pressed up against him, providing additional friction as his movements became quicker. 

 

“Fred…” she moaned, stalling his movements.

“I’m not trying to get you to do anything we aren’t ready for, Hermione. If you want me to stop I will.” He swallowed hard and tried to control the tremors that were running through his body in anticipation. 

 

She reached between them and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, kissing what parts of him she could reach as more of him became visible. When she’d managed to get it open he removed it as her hands moved to his belt and fly, starting the process of disrobing him completely. 

 

“Hermione…” he stopped her hands and searched her eyes for a clue of what she was trying to do. 

 

“Lie back.” She said, moving out from under him to change places. All he could do was nod as she finished undressing him before peeling off her top and bra. 

 

“Where’d you get this one?” he asked suddenly, tracing his fingers over the scar that had caught his attention the night before.

 

“Department of Mysteries. Dolohov hit me with some unknown spell and it left me with that scar.” She answered, trying to cover it in embarrassment. 

 

“Don’t. It’s part of you,” he stopped her hands and gently stroked the uneven skin, making her shiver. 

 

She steadied her breath before removing his hand and leaning in to kiss him. She worked her way slowly from his lips, down his chest, to his stomach. She swirled her tongue around his belly button as she took his member in her hand. He drew a ragged breath as his hand moved unbidden to toy with her curls. She smiled to herself as she licked and kissed his inner thighs, making him shiver like he’d done her. She teased a while longer, licking around his cock and balls without touching them. He groaned in frustration as she moved her hand achingly slowly up and down. When she thought he could take no more she licked the tip and elicited a hiss from him. 

 

“Blimey woman…” he groaned. 

 

She sucked on just the head, twirling her tongue as she bobbed slightly lower each time. His moans increased in frequency as she worked her way from just the head to take all of him in her mouth. It wasn’t long before she had set a steady rhythm, using one hand to manipulate his balls and the other to stroke his shaft between lathes of her tongue and bobs of her head. She could feel his balls contract and heard his breathing quicken and then stall.

 

“Hermione…” he warned.

 

She increased her speed, sending him over the edge not long after. To his surprise, she swallowed his load before gently setting him cock back against his stomach. 

 

“That was amazing.” He sighed, reaching up to pull her down into his arms. 

 

“Your turn… just as soon… as I catch... My breath…” he panted. 

 

“You don’t have to.” She offered quietly. 

 

“Nuh uh… you’re in for it, witch.” He rolled her under him suddenly, making her squeak in surprise. 

 

He wasted no time in removing her jeans and knickers, beginning to stroke her clit just as soon as they were off. She tilted her head back in a moan as he discovered she was already soaking wet as he slid one finger through her folds. 

 

“Bloody hell…” he groaned, leaning over to take each nipple into his mouth in turn. 

 

He continued to slick his fingers through her folds and swirl them over her clit as he sucked and lightly nipped at her hardened nipples. 

 

“Oh Fred…” she moaned when he slid one finger slowly inside her. He searched for her g-spot, moving against it rapidly when she cried out at his success. 

 

He slowly added a second finger before he moved his mouth to her clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. She worked her hands into his hair, gripping as she resisted the urge to clamp her thighs around his head as her orgasm built. 

 

“Cum for me, baby.” He murmured against her, causing a slight vibration against her clit. It was enough to send her over the edge with a high pitched cry.

 

He slid back up her body slowly, kissing the expanses of skin in admiration as he approached her face. Gently, he took her face in his hands and kissed her lips softly. 

 

“We can take as long as you need to get to sex, Hermione, so long as I can occasionally make you come undone like that.” He whispered, resituating the sleeping bag around them and pulling her close to him. All she could do was nod as she snuggled tiredly into his chest. 


	14. Old Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m traveling at the moment, and the place where I’m staying does not have consistent reception. I’ll be here for a few weeks and will try to get everything up on time, but it’s at the mercy of my connection! Mini chapter tonight and another in the next couple days. Thanks for understanding. Title is from the song Old Scars/Future Hearts by All Time Low.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Old Scars**

 

Hermione lay in his arms staring into the darkness above at the flickering light of the stars. She didn’t understand how he’d managed to find a way around all the walls she’d built around herself, but she was glad he was there. She felt safe and sane in his arms like she could honestly be herself for the first time in a very long time. She couldn’t help but run over the last few months over and over again in her mind. She didn’t know if she’d ever escape her ghosts, but she wanted to try. There was something about the heartbeat keeping steady rhythm under her ear that made her feel like the future was worth waiting for. 

 

She couldn’t help but feel lucky that her scars were mostly invisible, buried deep inside herself. Her heart was a mess, much like her mind. Fred’s scars were written on his arms for the world to see, even though they were mostly covered by his new tattoo. She wondered if maybe Ron would have noticed if her damage had been more obvious. If she’d only spoken up maybe she wouldn’t have tried to take her own life. She turned slightly, feeling him stir beneath her cheek when she sighed. 

 

“You awake?” He whispered, voice gravelly with sleep.

 

“Just thinking,” her voice was barely a whisper in the stillness of the night. 

 

“Are you alright?” He rubbed her arm soothingly, making her snuggle closer to him.

 

“What are we doing? Is this a mistake?” She whispered back, unconsciously wrapping him tighter around her as she shrank into herself.

 

“Are you scared?” He loosed his grip on her slightly, tilting her chin up so he could better see her face.

 

“Yes.” He could hear the fear and unshed tears in her voice, it brought a sinking feeling to his stomach. 

 

“I am too. We don’t have to take things so quickly. We can step things back…” he soothed, brushing stray hair out of her face 

 

“It’s not that… it’s just… I breathe better when you’re near me, I’m safer, and I feel saner. You make me want to be honest, to be better, to make it through another night. If this doesn’t work, or if this is a mistake…” Fred stopped her with a press of his fingertips to her lips. 

 

“It’s not a mistake. You make me want more tomorrows, Hermione, and I didn’t want that for myself for a very long time. It’s okay to be afraid, I’m afraid too. But I don’t think this is a mistake, I don’t think we’d be in this position if it was. This isn’t going to be easy. I’m willing to give it a try if you are,” he kissed her forehead before searching out her eyes and waiting for a response.

 

“You have to promise me you’ll tell me if you change your mind…” she sounded almost hysterical in her plea. 

 

“I promise. But I’m not going to change my mind. Do you want to go inside? Or do you still want to try and catch the sunrise?” He smoothed the top of her hair, kissing her on the forehead again and pulling her more closely to him again. 

 

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we do.” She admitted as she relaxed slightly into his embrace. 

 

The stayed that way for a few long moments, heartbeats starting to sync up. She tried to push back the memories of all the mistakes she hadn’t shared with him yet, the things she was least proud of. Before she could open her mouth to speak he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. 

 

“I don’t know how else to make it clear to you how I feel about you, but… You’re like this dark little siren calling to me in the dark. When I close my eyes and want to hurt myself, I can hear you in my head. I try to listen to my own heartbeat and all I think about is how it changes any time you get near me. This is a huge thing for me too. And I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I know this can’t be a mistake. We both came back from the edges of despair and we found each other, that has to mean something,” he swallowed hard, voice thick with emotion.

 

“I’m afraid that I won’t get better, but you will. That you’ll leave me behind. Or if I get better and you don’t, that you’ll blame me or hate me for it. I feel like we’re on a razor’s edge… that is I don’t get myself put back together you won’t want me anymore. I’ve got all these scars that I can’t stop thinking about.”   

 

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right? I’m not just going to fade away into the night and forget you or cast you aside. I’ve been lost for months, with you I feel found. The last two nights I haven’t been sure if this is real or if I’m dreaming… either way, I’m not thinking about hurting myself. The sadness is still there, deep down, but it isn’t so overwhelming. I don’t want to hide in myself anymore, to lock myself away. I’ve talked to George more the last two weeks than I had in months. You helped me open up again, I could never hate you or leave you behind,” he soothed, pulling her hand to his face and kissing her palm.

 

“I haven’t told you everything about what I did before you took me to hospital... History you don’t know yet. I’m afraid that when I tell you, none of the last few days will matter anymore because you won’t be able to forgive me,” tears began to slowly slide down her cheeks as she kept talking, unable to hold back her feelings anymore. 

 

“There are so many things I’m not proud of, Fred. Things I wish I hadn’t done. Things I don’t understand why I was compelled to do them. And you? You’ve pulled me back from that place. And I don’t deserve it for the things I’ve done.” She paused to collect herself before she continued on, her thoughts running rapid fire.

 

When she thought back over the last few months she never would have guessed that the voice guiding her home in the night was him. In the long stretch of nightmares and drunken mistakes, he was the voice of reason calling from the innermost depths of her mind. When she was lonely and trying to crack the code as to why her brain didn’t function in the way it was meant to, it was his face behind her eyelids. He was the fixed point on her horizon now and the thought scared her. Could he still love her if he knew everything? The thought of even falling in love again terrified her. After everything with Ron, she wasn’t sure she could put herself through it all again. 

 

“After everything that happened with your brother… all the secrets I kept. How can I trust myself not to go back to that? To not hide things from you too? What if I’m so damaged I can’t be fixed?” He sat up, pulling her with him, and wrapped her in a firm hug.

 

“I know there are things you haven’t told me. I didn’t expect you to trust me with everything overnight, even though you’ve shared some pretty serious things up to this point. When you’re ready to talk about it all, I’ll be here. For now, I’m happy just to hold you while you cry even if I don’t totally understand why you’re crying…” he nuzzled his face into her hair as she sobbed, doing what little he could to try and project an aura of safety around the two of them. 

 

The sky was beginning to lighten above them, it wouldn’t be too much longer until the sun came up. What had seemed like a romantic notion the night before, now seemed somehow like a new starting point. If they could make it from this sunup to the next, they could keep pushing forward. If they kept chasing tomorrow and left their scarred hearts further and further in the past, maybe they had a chance. When she eventually took a deep, shuddery breath to end her tears he held her at arm’s length. 

 

“Look, we’re going to spend the entirety of the rest of our lives trying to get things right. We’re both going to make mistakes. If we’re lucky, we’ll learn from them and we’ll keep moving forward together. I know that things aren’t going to be easy. There are going to be times when one or both of us is going to be at the edge of something serious. I can’t speak for you, but I know I want you beside me when I work through those things. If you’re willing to take a chance on me, I’m all in for this.” 

 

“I’m just so tired of fighting my own mind… I’ve had so many chances to get it right. The road to stability seems so long right now...what if it takes a lifetime to fix me? You deserve better than that…”

 

“Stop. I don’t want anyone except you. Not right now. Probably not ever. If we spend the rest of our lives trying and failing to make sense of what happened to us in the war, then that’s what we’ll do. You need to trust me a little bit, Hermione. I can’t make it better. I can sit beside you while we try to figure it all out.” He took her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs.

 

“I can try.” She whispered, letting him catcher her eyes. She wasn’t sure what he was reading in hers, but in his, she saw fire. 

 

“That’s all I’m asking for.” He kissed her gently before leaning them both back to the ground to watch the night turn into day. 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione paced back and forth in the waiting room, vaguely concerned she may wear a hole through the already threadbare carpet. When she’d left Fred’s that morning she’d come home to an owl from a doctor she’d found in her search for a support group or something similar that might be able to help them. It had taken some doing, but she thought she may have found the only practicing wizarding therapist in all of London. Now she was driving herself spare waiting to meet them for the first time. She hadn’t been able to gather much information, except the address and the name Doctor McKinnon. The tip had come from Neville, who had overheard one of Hannah’s customers saying there was some experimental psychologist who’d set up shop and was helping people after the war. 

 

She didn’t know what to expect really. She’d never been to a Muggle therapist or how that might compare to an experimental magical variety. She mulled over the possibilities in her mind as she paced, not noticing when the door opened a few moments later. She was surprised to recognize the face on the other side of the door. 


	15. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Internet is still spotty. I do all my work online so when it’s down I can’t edit or update. Hold tight, we should be back on schedule next week! I cut this one early so I could get up something before and not leave everyone hanging any longer! Title from All Time Low (yes again, I write to them a lot lol)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Therapy**

Hermione felt as if she was looking at a ghost. The woman stood before her looked remarkably like one in a photograph she’d seen some time ago now if a little older. She was about Hermione’s height with long auburn hair and a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. If her eyes had been green instead of brown she would have sworn it was the same woman. Memories of the Order of the Phoenix and lives long since lost overwhelmed her mind. 

“You… you can’t possibly be?” words failed her as she absorbed what she was seeing, feeling her hands shake ever so slightly. 

“No, but I know who you think I am. Marlene was a distant relative, though I’m told we look quite alike. It happens with more frequency than it used to now that I go by our family’s proper name again.” She smiled at Hermione, beckoning her inside her office. 

The room was cozy and comfortable looking with overstuffed, soft leather furniture decorated with fuzzy throw blankets and squishy seeming cushions. The rugs were slightly threadbare in places, suggesting that patients may have paced in front of the couch or the heavily curtained windows. Hermione was relieved to see a fire going, her nerves making her colder than usual. Dr. McKinnon waited patiently for her to enter the room completely, an air of caring rolling off her. 

“They said all the McKinnons were killed alongside Marlene. How could you be distantly related?” She shook her head in confusion as she took a seat on the couch, pulling a cushion protectively in front of her. Dr. McKinnon took her time settling into an armchair, readying a quill and parchment on the table next to her. 

“My mother took us into hiding so they would not know there were any survivors, Marlene was my cousin by some distance on my father’s side. We changed our name to Smith for a time, it wasn’t until after the Second War that I changed mine back to McKinnon. But you aren’t here to discuss my family’s history, Ms. Granger. Unless I’m mistaken.” Her voice was soothing and warm like her smile.

“I suppose not. I’m just a little taken aback. My apologies…” she collected herself, making use of the water pitcher and glass she’d spotted on the table next to her. 

“It’s very much alright. I know from reputation you had a connection to the second Order of the Phoenix, I imagine you would have heard of Marlene and the unhappy ending that befell her. That aside, why are you here, Hermione?” Dr. McKinnon’s eyes were kind as they surveyed her movements.

“If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure, Doctor. I’ve had some… trouble. It was somewhat shocking after the war to find that there is seemingly no concept of psychiatric care in the magical world. Didn’t people need help after the first war? Where did they go? Surely not everyone could receive care from within their own families…” she rambled on, only stopping when Dr. McKinnon cleared her throat.

“It’s true that there is not enough psychiatric help available in our world, Hermione, but you have found your way to me and I’m here to help. Now, I think we both know you didn’t come here to discuss the history of psychology in the magical world. Why did you seek me out?” She pressed. 

“I… I had a suicide attempt not that long ago. No one really knows. And… I… I’ve been having trouble with my drinking. I don’t handle it well when I feel I’ve gone numb, so I drink. And when I’ve had too much… when I’ve had too much I… Well... I’ve been putting myself in dangerous situations on purpose… sexually that is. I didn’t think it was such a big problem at first, but I injured myself. Somewhat seriously. I um… I’m not being very kind to myself. Not since…” She stumbled over her words, all the calm she’d tried to surround herself with to get to the appointment at all failing her. She sipped at her water, trying to buy time. 

“The war?” Dr. McKinnon suggested when Hermione didn’t pick up the thread of conversation she’d started. 

“Yes. Not since the war. I’m not just here for me though, there are others… do you have some sort of group therapy? Somewhere survivors can talk?” Her eyes found the doctor’s, pleading for good news.

“I do, yes, but membership is determined by success in individual sessions. If you’d like to start seeing me routinely we can work on trying to get you into a group session as well. And your friends, whoever they may be, you’ll need to give them my information as well to set something up.” She summoned a set of business cards and handed them to Hermione. They were simple cards with no real indication of her position.

“I’m somewhat… romantically linked… to the other person.” Hermione admitted, looking away suddenly as her cheeks flushed. 

“I’m not the only one they can see if it’s a conflict of interest for me to speak to both of you. There are a couple other privately practices witches and wizards in London if you know where to look. We share the same support group, so if it’s important to you that you’re both in the same group sessions we can arrange that. But, ultimately, it’s up to your comfort level. It hasn’t been uncommon since the war for me to see couples both together and individually.”

“I’ll speak to him about it. I think he needs to see someone… We’ve been trying to help one another, but we’re not well equipped. And things… they’re moving in a sexual direction now. I trust him, but I don’t know that I trust myself. I don’t want to lose him, but I also don’t want to use him either.”

“Are you using him?” The question surprised her. 

“I… I don’t think so. But what if I am? I couldn’t do that to him. He’s so damaged… he needs to heal…”

“Hermione. You didn’t come here just to set up appointments for other people. Would you like to discuss some of what your own concerns are? We don’t have to start anywhere in particular. It doesn’t have to be such a formalised thing. We can jump around in your timeline if that’s less scary for you. But, we also can’t bring everything back around to other people all the time either. You won’t be of use to anyone in your life if you don’t take care of yourself first.” Dr. McKinnon chastised.

“I’m not used to not being in control of my own life. I don’t feel like I am right now, not completely. There’s this… second version of me deep inside that is ruining everything.” She swallowed back a lump in her throat, her eyes going slightly glassy.

“What do you mean? Like a second personality?” Dr. McKinnon straightened in her chair and reacher for her quill.

“No, not like that. It’s like there’s this part of me I had buried deep down, and now it’s the part trying to control everything now. I don’t like it.” She shook her head, clenching the water glass between both hands as she stared into it. 

“I don’t suppose you would, no. What sort of things does this part of you want you to do?” She leaned her head slightly to the side as she considered the young woman sitting across from her. The depth of her pain was just barely becoming apparent to her now. 

“It’s the part of me that wants to fight the numbness with shagging strangers in Muggle pubs. The part that thinks I shouldn’t be here anymore, that I should have died in the war...The part that can’t handle the idea that maybe I’m not meant to be happy…” The last bit came out as a whisper, her throat almost closing over the words as if it didn’t want them to escape.

“Do you really believe that, Hermione? That you aren’t meant to be happy?” Dr. McKinnon’s eyes were shaded with concern, not liking the sound of what she was hearing.

“I… yes. Sometimes I do believe that. But lately…” her mind wandered back over the last few days with Fred, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. 

“Where did you go just then? It seemed like something recently is making you feel like maybe you can experience happiness again. Would you like to tell me about it?” Dr. McKinnon pointed her quill at Hermione, her eyes shining with interest. Maybe there was a way in to help her see that she could be happy again, even if she didn’t feel like she deserved it.

“Well… we’ve known each other a long time. It’s the man I’ve been seeing. His name is Fred…”


	16. Beautiful Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m back home! My gig schedule is going to be a bit odd so I’m going to stick to shorter chapters to be sure I’ve got stuff to go up. If I can, I’m hoping to get a bonus out this week as well. =) Title is from Taylor Swift.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Beautiful Eyes**

 

Fred hummed to himself as he bustled around the backroom prepping potion ingredients and updating the product testing logs. His blood felt electrified after two nights spent holding his witch. His witch. Those were not words he could have ever dreamed would apply to Hermione. Now though… now he wasn’t sure why it took so long for him to figure it out. That she thought even for a moment that he might not want her anymore was unthinkable to him. Now that he had her he had no intention of letting her get away. Not so long as she’d let him hold her and dry her tears. He was lost in thought of the depths of her honeyed whiskey eyes when George exploded into the room. 

 

“Oi! Didn’t you hear me calling you?” He laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder. 

 

“Sorry, Georgie. Bit lost in thought there…” Fred shook the thoughts from his mind, trying to focus on work instead. 

 

“That thought about yay high? Riot of curls and a smart mouth when she wants one?” George held his hand at roughly his chin with a wink. 

 

“Oh sod off…” Fred grumbled good-naturedly. 

 

“I was just coming back here to see about having a lunch break. Verity has it held down at the moment and Ron said he might drop by today for a bit…” 

 

“Ron doesn’t know yet.” Fred blurted, realising that at some point he’d have to tell his little brother that he was seeing his ex-girlfriend. 

 

“Didn’t suppose he did. Just wanted to give you a heads up he might be popping in for a bit today on the off that you wanted to be at lunch when he did…” George raised his brows conspiratorially in his direction. 

 

“Right then… so we should go now if I don’t want to be here when he drops in?” 

 

“That would be the shape of it, yeah. You in a good spot to stop? Nothing going to explode while we’re away?” George peeked into the various cauldrons, trying to ascertain which products Fred was working on. 

 

“Should be fine. Let me just grab my coat…” Fred disappeared upstairs and left his brother to investigate what he’d been working on. He was slightly surprised to see fresh notes tweaking the recipe of a mild sleeping draught they’d been attempting for the Wonder Witch line. It was intended to bring the drinker sweet dreams of their intended. 

 

“Ready!” Fred hopped back into the room, giving the cauldron on the end one last stir before they headed toward the front door. 

 

“Freddie, why have you got the sleeping draught going again?” George asked as they made their way toward The Leaky Cauldron where they often took their lunch breaks if they didn’t make their own food. 

 

“Hermione doesn’t sleep well. Neither do I really. I thought it might help.” He admitted with a sigh, of course, his twin would have noticed what he was working on.

 

“Just be careful, yeah? Remember what happened the last time we toyed with a sleeping draught…” George grimaced, unable to finish his sentence. 

 

“I really think that only happened because we used too much valerian root! If we scale it back it won’t last quite so long…” Fred defended, remembering all too well the three nap he’d taken on the storeroom floor as a result of their product testing. 

 

“I don’t think it was the valerian. It’s got to be something that we’re adding to bring to the dreams. Otherwise, it’s just a standard sleeping draught.” George argued back as the settled into a table in the back of the pub. 

“I’m thinking if he cross it with a draught of peace and a couple drops of one of the existing love potions and we might get the results we want.” 

 

“Why the draught of peace?” George cocked his head in curiosity, it wasn’t a potion they often dabbled with. 

 

“I think we might need to make it a two-step process. Something to calm the mind and body first, then something to start the thoughts and relax the user into sleep.” Fred explained, rolling his sleeves up his arms before leaning over the edge of the table to whisper to his brother. 

 

“Really, George, I think what we’re looking to do is inspire the drinker into a peaceful sleep less so than forcing dreams on them. I think we want to work with the mind on this one and not against it.” 

 

“You might be onto something there, brother. What do you say we order a bit of food and make this something of a working lunch? I’ve got a quill and notebook on me, we can jot out some ideas…” Fred smiled at him in response, very much liking the sound of that. 

 

* * *

 

When they returned from lunch it was to find, much to Fred’s relief, that Ron has already come and gone without complaint on having missed them. 

 

“And what was it he wanted this time?” George asked Verity. 

 

“I think he might be serious about becoming a larger partner in the business. He’s getting burned out on his Auror work. Honestly? I think it’s because he’s taking too many shifts. Ever since he and Hermione split he’s almost never off. I don’t know how he’s managed to keep his new girlfriend at all…” Verity shook her head disapprovingly as she made to restock the shelves near the register. 

 

“New girlfriend? How do you know he’s got one?” Fred asked, trying to hide his burning curiosity. 

 

“He’s got a huge love bite on his neck. I don’t think he knows it’s peeking out from his shirt collar. He must not stay over much, or she doesn’t know a basic vanishing spell for them… Hell, I’ve had great luck with the bruise paste we sell here.” Verity laughed and shot George a wink. Fred made note to investigate that particular action when there weren’t customers in the store. 

 

“Well, we aren’t taking on a full-time partner until we’re ready to expand. And we don’t even know if Zonko is looking to sell.” George crossed his arms and leaned against the till counter, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. 

 

Fred couldn’t help but notice the way his brother’s gaze trailed off after Verity as she disappeared into the back to dispose of the empty product boxes. 

 

“Careful there, brother.” Fred teased with a smile. 

 

“Says you.” George shot back, his ears going just a bit pink at having been caught out. 


	17. Self Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: To celebrate my re-birthday (aka my one year anniversary of a failed suicide attempt) I’m giving you a mini-bonus chapter. Thanks for being part of my recovery. <3 Title is from Spill Canvas.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

 

**Self Conclusion**

 

“Hermione, you said before we started talking about Fred that you’d had a suicide attempt not that long ago and no one really knew. Does he know about what happened?” Dr. McKinnon set her quill aside, folding her hands neatly in her lap. 

 

“He knows the gist of it. I didn’t actually tell him the details.” Hermione admitted, staring at a patch of carpet, unsure how else to respond.

 

“Would you mind telling me some of the story? I know we’ve only just met if you’re not comfortable with speaking to me about it yet I understand.” her voice was soft and low, somewhat comforting.

 

“I..well, does one ever get comfortable talking about it?” Hermione squirmed in her seat, pulling a cushion into her lap and in front of her chest like a shield. Dr. McKinnon raised her brows but said nothing about the action.

 

“It depends on the person. Some people joke about it because they find it helps ease the pain of the memory while allowing them to speak about it. I’ve worked with some who are able to talk candidly with very little reaction after some time has passed and they’ve dealt with the trauma. Others may never be able to comfortably speak about their experiences. I’m certain some people never speak of it at all and carry it like a dark secret until the day they die. In my opinion, talking at least a little could be helpful for most people. Ultimately, it’s up to you how you want to address it. You’ve already admitted you made an attempt, is there more you’d like to tell me?” She explained carefully, trying not to emphasize any one method.

 

“I think I need to talk to someone about it. I keep trying to work up the nerve to tell Fred exactly what happened, but I’m not there yet,” she chewed her lower lip, she wasn’t sure if it was out of nervousness or guilt. 

 

“And that’s alright. You don’t have to be there.” Hermione nodded in response before taking a large swallow of water.

 

“I’d like to try and tell you. I feel like we’ve already used almost the entire hour…” 

 

“I set aside two hours for the first session just in case. It’s up to you if you’d like to continue, Hermione. If you’d like to wait until you schedule your next appointment, that’s also fine.” Dr. McKinnon double checked the time and seemed satisfied with what was available to them. 

 

“I want to try.” Hermione nodded and took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

 

“Okay, tell me what you can.” Dr. McKinnon quietly picked up her quill again and waited for her to start.

 

“I told everyone it was a potions accident. Ron and I… he’s Fred’s younger brother and my ex-boyfriend remember? Ron and I had space set aside in our flat for me to work in when I needed to. I don’t know if it matters what I was supposed to be working on, but it was to do with aiding in the healing of injuries caused by transformation in werewolves. I mention this mainly because it explains why I had so much aconite readily available. The leaves are incredibly toxic if not offset with the right ingredients… I mixed it with asphodel, infusion of wormwood, valerian root, sopophorous bean, sloth brain, and a little bit of water…”

 

“Draught of the Living Death?” Dr. McKinnon interjected, surprised. 

 

“Yes. I thought if I blended the aconite with it I would fall asleep and the poison from the leaves would kill me.” 

 

“You wanted to die in your sleep?” She pressed, making a short note on her page.

 

“Yes. I thought it would be less painful.” It came out as a whisper, just barely audible to the doctor.

 

“What happened after you drank it?” She gently prodded, giving Hermione a moment to collect herself again. 

 

“I don’t remember a lot of it, I wasn’t awake for some of the time… Ron said he came home early and found me on the floor. He saw the recipe for the Draught of Living Death and leftover aconite and thought I must have mixed something up since it wasn’t in the recipe, but had very obviously been used. He took me to St. Mungo’s and they administered Wiggenweld to wake me up. When they saw I was still declining they gave me the Antidote for Common Poisons to try and counteract the aconite. It mostly worked, but I’d ingested enough of it they weren’t sure what side effects there might be so they kept me for several days. I didn’t want to admit what happened because I was afraid they would admit me and I’d never be allowed to leave, so I lied and said I misread the vials. They knew I’d been doing potions research for the Ministry so they just assumed I was telling the truth and let me go home. I slept a lot after that as a result of the poisoning while my body continued to heal. I didn’t know until much later that Ron had already started cheating on me then. I thought he’d been gone a lot because I slept so much and he didn’t want to disturb me. I never questioned it.” Hermione shrugged uncomfortably, looking away and focusing on a bit of wallpaper on the other side of the room. 

 

“Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

 

“No, that answer is a bit more complicated…” Hermione shook her head, making eye contact again.

 

“Do you think you’d like to talk about that today?” Dr. McKinnon asked, seeing that there was still a little time left.

 

“Not today. I don’t think I have the words to accurately describe what I was going through.” Dr. McKinnon nodded in response, taking a moment to jot down a few more thoughts before catching Hermione’s eye again. 

 

“I’m going to give you a little bit of homework if that’s alright?”

 

“Of course…” Hermione sat up straighter as if she was back in school, unable to resist the opportunity to learn something. 

 

“I’d like you to spend a little bit of trying to get some of how you were feeling written down on paper, sometimes the words come easier when you know you can scratch out the parts that aren’t working. I also want you to consider what you’d like to get out of these sessions. Obviously, we can use them just for talk therapy. Many of my clients choose that route but I get the feeling you might be looking for something more out of this. And I think it’s to do with things you haven’t even told me yet.” 

 

“I think I can handle that.” Hermione nodded, committing her assignment to memory straight away.

 

“If you can’t, you can’t. And that’s okay. This isn’t like when you were at Hogwarts, there is no lower score if your homework isn’t perfect. Some things take time and multiple sessions to figure out. You don’t need to know all the answers by our next session.” Dr. McKinnon emphasized, her voice firm. 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hermione nodded once more as she rose and made her way to the exit. 


	18. The In-Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another short one. I had a death in the family among some other bad news. This is meant in the same vein as “Meanwhile” in that it’s an update to keep us moving while I deal with other things. Thanks for the support, all! No song this time.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

 

**The In-Between**

 

Hermione took a deep breath as she looked over her flat, she’d been spending so much time distracted from it that she didn’t notice how long it had been since she’d opened the windows and let the sunshine and air through. Sunlight had long been cleansing for her soul, maybe it was time to let it back into her living space. She let the conversation with Dr. McKinnon run through her mind as she carefully opened the curtains and windows of each room, letting the fresh, if cold, air in to sweep out the staleness. There wasn’t much sun, a smattering of April rain clouds passing by overhead when she popped her head out to see. There may not be warm sunshine, but she’d take what she could get.

 

She weighed the pros and cons of telling Fred the whole story of her suicide attempt. Was it something he needed to know the entirety of, or was it something where what he knew was enough? Would he want to know it all? Would the knowledge help or hinder their budding relationship? What if it was too much for him? What if her history was too much? She sighed and flopped onto the couch indelicately. She eyed the diary she’d picked up after her session suspiciously. Over the last few days, she’d not been able to get the words out of her mind and on to the page. It was not something she had struggled with before. But, maybe, that was because she had never tried to get her true feelings written out before. The homework Dr. McKinnon had given her had sounded easy enough, but it was turning out to be the hardest thing she’d ever attempted to do.

 

She blew an errant curl out of her eyes and reached for the small leather book, running her hands carefully over the swirls embossed on the purple cover. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to get something so pretty for such a potentially dark task. Maybe, subconsciously, that had been the point. Something beautiful to contain the things she knew were ugly to read. She tapped her nails on it, debating taking another stab at the task while it was still early in the day. She and Fred hadn’t made plans for a few days, both caught up in their own projects and responsibilities. She promised herself that if she could get two pages written out today she would let herself invite him over, but only after she’d accomplished what she thought was a fairly conservative goal. With a sigh she opened the pages and stared at the blank pages as she twirled her quill, this was not going to be easy.

 

* * *

 

 

“So… no plans with Hermione tonight? The two of you okay?” George asked, watching Fred hang his work robes on the peg and start the kettle.

 

“No plans. We’re fine, both just busy this week. I’ve been fiddling with that recipe and she’s got some sort of homework from the therapist…”

 

“You think you might give it a try too?” He tried to hide his hopefulness that Fred would give a session a try.

 

“I think so. Just waiting to see what times she has available. Hermione didn’t say much in her last letter about the appointment, but she said Dr. McKinnon is kind and she trusts her. It can’t hurt to try… You want a cup?” Fred gestured to the kettle as his brother carefully watched him work on the simple task.

 

“Please. I’m glad you’re going to give it a shot. Might be good for you.” George fiddled with a scrap of parchment, mulling something over in his mind.

 

“George, what’s wrong? It can’t possibly be that you’re this worked up over my not seeing Hermione much this week… or the therapy appointment. You knew I was seriously considering it from the very beginning.” Fred pressed, sitting down across from him at their kitchen table.

 

“I… I’m thinking of making things official with Verity,” he mumbled into his teacup.

 

“What was that?” Fred beamed, pushing the cup back down to make him repeat his words.

 

“I’m thinking of asking Verity to be my girlfriend. It’s mostly just been a bit of snogging up to this point.”

 

“Just snogging?” Fred smirked, not believing him.

 

“Well, a little bit more actually… but not much.” George laughed when his brother shook a finger at him in mock judgment.

 

“Why the delay?” Fred took a sip of his own tea, flipping through his potions notes.

 

“I erm… I was afraid of leaving you alone too often. With everything that’s happened…” he blushed furiously, immediately regretting his words at Fred’s hurt expression.

 

“You don’t have to stop living your life just because I’m having trouble, George. I don’t want that for you. If Verity makes you happy, you should go for it. It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or not. Nothing that happened to me during the war is your fault, you know that right?” His eyes searched his twin’s, a hurricane of emotion mirroring back at him.

 

“I know it wasn’t. But… I couldn’t live without you if you succeeded in killing yourself. If me being around more helps keep you alive, it’s a small price to pay.” George swallowed back the tears caught in his throat.

 

“Hey… I’m here and I’m not trying to go anywhere,” he put a hand comfortingly on his brother’s wrist with a firm squeeze.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Fred nodded at him seriously.

 

“You think you and Hermione will make it official?” George tentatively changed the subject.

 

“When she’s ready.” George just nodded in response, knowing there was more going on with her than he knew about.

 

“Verity, huh? You going to tell me how that happened?” Fred smirked at him.

 

“You really want to hear about it?”

 

“You started snogging our only female employee. I definitely want to know how that happened.” Fred laughed, summoning a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses as they finished their tea.

 

“Order in tonight?” George smiled, accepting the glass.

 

“You pick,” Fred grinned back as he filled his own drink.

 

It wasn’t long before they found themselves moved to the coffee table, tumblers in hand, with a spread of Chinese food before them and Quidditch highlights coming through over the wireless.

 

“So Verity…” Fred asked around a bite of eggroll.

 

“Verity…” George smiled a little, searching his memory.

 

“Verity happened mostly on accident. You remember when we were doing the post Christmas inventory?”

 

“I do, yeah.”

 

“Well, one of the nights she stayed behind late we got stuck under a bit of leftover trick mistletoe. It should have only taken a quick peck to release, but she really went for it.” George chuckled, eyes twinkling.

“Really? I would not have seen that coming…” Fred chuckled along, warming inside at his twin’s happiness.

 

“Yeah, I sort of rolled my eyes when I noticed we were stuck and leaned down to give her a quick one, it’s not like we haven’t all been stuck under the mistletoe with her before… anyway…. She grabbed my face and pushed up onto her toes and just… suddenly we weren’t so much trying to get released from the charm or taking inventory as we were trying to swallow one another whole. She snogs like a demon…” he went breathy for a moment, making his brother mildly uncomfortable.

 

“Sorry, Fred…” George sputtered when he saw the red of his ears.

 

“It’s alright, I will get you back though!” He shook his chopsticks at him.

 

“I don’t think I want to know how Hermione shags Fred…” George laughed.

 

“I’d like to find out someday. We haven’t yet.” He admitted sheepishly.

 

“What was all that racket on the roof the other night then? I thought you’d shagged the life right out of her the way she was hollering!”

 

“We weren’t that loud, were we? Bollocks… don’t tell her, yeah? She’ll be mortified.” Fred couldn’t help but puff a little at the fact.

 

“You two really haven’t snagged yet?” He looked bewildered, shaking his head lightly back and forth.

 

“Nope. She’s not ready. We’ve done other things as you can tell.” Fred nodded, focusing on his noodles.

 

“Things our eldest brother might have passed on?” He winked at Fred, making him sputter and choke around his food.

 

“Yeah. We failed by not having that little chat with Ron by the way…”

 

“Knew we’d forgotten something with him. Too late now of course.” George shrugged, completely not caring.

 

“I think Hermione sent Bill flowers actually. He sent an owl to the shop asking if one of us had a new girlfriend because he’d received an interesting gift. I think he sent one to Percy too.” Fred guffawed.

 

“Is that what that was about? Dad asked me about it! Overheard Fleur telling mum someone had sent Bill flowers at work thanking him for being such an ‘educational’ older brother. If you don’t marry her I will! That’s bloody brilliant!” George whooped.

 

“Hands off my witch, Gred!” Fred tossed a bit of chicken at him, laughing when he dodged and caught it in his mouth.

 

“If I didn’t have my own you’d have to watch your back. Any witch that sends Bill flowers as a thank you for teaching is younger brothers about shagging and the finer points of the act is someone I most definitely have an interest in.” He smiled cheekily at his brother, a second piece of chicken just barely missing his head.


	19. I'll Follow You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This week has been a bit of a nightmare. BUT today is my birthday! So another bonus chapter! This is how I celebrate. Lol Title from Shinedown
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**I’ll Follow You**

 

“How did the homework go?” Dr. McKinnon asked as Hermione settled herself on the sofa with the journal open in her lap.

 

“It was interesting, I did what you asked, but I also discovered some other things I hadn’t thought too much about before…”

 

“Oh?” She cocked her head at Hermione curiously, settling into her seat with her quill at the ready.

 

“As I was writing out why I felt so terrible with Ron I started to piece together part of why I made the choices I did after… I’ve treated sex as a mostly unemotional thing for most of my experience. Other than with my ex-fiance, it hasn't been about love. It’s been about release. I think maybe that’s why I was trolling those pubs before. It wasn’t the getting drunk or the danger of it really, it was the lack of strings. It was a means to an end without risking hurting someone I cared about.”

 

“Or yourself, maybe? Do you think you might avoid emotionally attached sex because you’re afraid of getting hurt?”

 

“I think I must be. Otherwise, why would it be such a big deal to me? I won’t sleep with Fred because I’m afraid I’ll just throw him away after. And that’s not what I want to do…”

 

“Is it that you think you’ll throw him away, Hermione, or are you secretly afraid he won’t want you anymore?” Dr. McKinnon pressed, reading something in her body language Hermione couldn’t identify.

 

“What do you mean?” Hermione was puzzled by the question.

 

“Hermione… did you have fulfilling sex with Ron?”

 

“No, not really. It was always about what he wanted. He’s very… needy I think would be the word for it. Everything was always such a production, sometimes I didn’t want that. But it didn’t matter what I wanted.” She explained, crossing and uncrossing her hands over the journal.

 

“When you found out Ron had cheated on you, how did it make you feel?”

 

“It made me feel like I had wasted all my time trying to make him happy. Like I wasn’t good enough for him.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes at the memory. She took a steadying breath and a large swallow of water from the glass on the table.

 

“When you had anonymous sex in these pubs, did you get what you wanted out of it?”

 

“I… yes and no. I got the orgasm. That’s what I thought would make me feel again.” Her cheeks pinked slightly at the admission.

 

“That’s not something to be embarrassed about. What weren’t you getting from those encounters?” She urged, taking notes.

 

“Sometimes I wanted more, but it wasn’t something I could ask for. Sometimes I wanted to be held or to have someone talk to me until I fell asleep. Sometimes it wasn’t always about the sex…”

 

“Okay, now you know that. I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you don’t treat every sexual encounter as an emotional arrangement. That can be healthy, to a certain degree. What you need is a balance. It sounds like you weren’t having your emotional or physical needs met with Ron. So when it ended you sought out a solution to the physical part, but the emotional part you were getting from somewhere else.” She watched Hermione carefully, trying to gauge how the information was absorbing.

 

“Where?”

 

“From Fred. You’re getting much of your emotional needs met when you’re with him. I know you haven’t had sex with him yet, but to an extent, you’re having your physical needs met with him now too. Correct?”

 

“Yes, I think that’s right.” She sat up a little straighter, realisation dawning.

 

“Do you see where I’m going with this Hermione?” Dr. McKinnon smiled at her patiently.

 

“It’s okay if I want to have sex with Fred. I’m not going to push him away and he’s not going to push me away… because I want to stay with him and he wants to stay with me. He’s not his brother.” She pieced together, the light bulb going off in her mind.

 

“Bingo.” Dr. McKinnon laughed lightly, letting Hermione bask in the information for a moment.

 

“So the anonymous sex thing…” she furrowed her brow, concerned.

 

“Not something I generally recommend, but given your history, I’m not all that surprised by it. You jumped into an unfilling relationship rather quickly and when everything felt like it was falling apart you tried to solve the problem, albeit subconsciously. I don’t think you necessarily need to worry about treating Fred the way you treated those trysts, but it’s up to the two of you to decide what sort of pace you want to set with moving forward in your physical relationship.”

 

“So I’m not some sort of sexually deviant emotional vampire?” Hermione asked, only slightly joking.

 

“Far from it. You’re just a young woman who has had a rough go of it and needs some help making sense of it all. How about we move on to your actual homework? And if you’d like, time permitting, we can talk more about how you see things going with you and Fred.”

 

“Okay.” Hermione looked down at her notes, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

  
  


“Sorry, it’s been so long. I was going to invite you over that first night, but I got sort of carried away with my homework. Then you said you had all the new experimentations going on…” Hermione apologised as she crossed through the floo into Fred and George’s living room.

 

“It’s fine, Hermione. We wrote every day and I’ve been so knackered trying to figure out this new product I’d have been useless…” Fred kissed her soundly, holding her at arm's length after and giving her a once over.

 

“You look amazing. What’s the occasion?” He asked, eyeing the elaborate braid she’d pinned to her hair and the silky black blouse she had on.

 

“Sort of an apology for not going to your birthday dinner like we were supposed. I also thought, that maybe… if you’re up for it… Could we tell your parents about us? I’d like your mum not to worry so much. She owls a lot, thinking I’m alone all the time…” her cheeks pinked a little, voice shaky with nerves.

 

“I think we can do that. I don’t know that Ron will be there tonight…” Fred trailed off, unsure how she’d taken the news.

 

“That’s fine. Really, I think we should tell your parents straight out and just let the rest of them figure it out.” She smiled at him, accepting his hand when he offered it.

 

“You two about ready?” George asked as he came into the room, fresh blue button down a contrast to Fred’s red.

 

“We are indeed. Looks like we’re telling mum and dad about us tonight too.” Fred smiled, giving Hermione’s hand a squeeze.

 

“Very nice! You know, I’ve still got some fireworks set up out there we were meant to blow off for our birthday…” George waggled his brows at his brother.

 

“Oh, I think that’d be lovely…” Fred grinned, clapping him on the back. Before Hermione could protest they were spinning away to The Burrow.

 

“Boys! Hermione! Oh!” Molly called happily as they made their way up the path from the apparation point.

 

“Hullo mum,” the boys called in unison, folding her into a hug when they reached her.

 

“And you, dear…” she gave Hermione the once over, concern lessening the more she looked.

 

“You need feeding, but everything else looks to be in order.” She wrapped her in a warm hug, making Hermione bubble over with affection.

 

“Is Arthur around? We’ve got a bit of news for the two of you…” Hermione asked when they parted, heading back toward the house.

 

“Yes, yes! Arthur?”

 

“Hermione! Boys!” Arthur greeted his son’s with pats on the shoulder, dropping a fatherly kiss to the top of Hermione’s head.

 

“They say they have some news for us…” Molly shared, taking her husband by the arm nervously.

 

“Well, it’s a couple things really…” George started before Hermione could.

 

“Oh?” Molly looked at him with concern.

 

“Don’t be too mad, mum, but we’ve all got tattoos…” George rolled up his sleeve to show his parents as Fred followed suit. Hermione sighed with a little laugh and undid the first few buttons to show off her own new addition.

 

“Oh! Well… I supposed I can’t be too mad. Charlie has more of them than I have children at this point. And the magic is sort of clever, isn’t it?” Molly relented after her face worked through a series of emotions from rage to acceptance.

 

“And what’s the other bit, then?” Arthur interrupted.

 

“Well, Hermione and I… we’re dating,” Fred explained, looping an arm around her as she finished buttoning her blouse.

 

“That’s such a relief. We sort of assumed, honestly, when neither of you showed up for your birthday dinner. I was afraid you were going to tell me she was pregnant…” Molly let out a sigh of relief, taking them by surprise.

 

“You aren’t angry?” Hermione asked softly.

 

“Why would I be, dear? I’ve been trying to marry you into the family tree for some time now. And if my youngest son wasn’t the right one for you, perhaps it’s Fred. You’re destined to be a Weasley, my love.” Molly smiled warmly at her and wrapped her in another embrace, shaking Fred off of her as she tugged Hermione behind her and toward the kitchen.

  
  
  


Dinner had been rather uneventful. Ron and Harry were away on assignment and Fleur was traveling less with her pregnancy, Bill staying behind to take care of her. Percy and Daphne had found a sitter for the night, intending to attend a work function after dinner, leaving just Ginny to round out the numbers for the evening. Despite the smaller than usual gathering, it was decided they would go ahead and shoot off the leftover fireworks anyway. Arthur was mildly concerned that the recent rain may have damaged some of them as they’d sat for so long.

 

Fred ran on ahead to start the process of lighting them off, George not far behind. Ginny and Hermione walked arm and arm, just beginning to catch up on all that had happened between her and Fred when the first colours lit up the sky.

 

No one had expected the explosion that followed. Her blood ran cold when she heard the blood-curdling scream that could only be Fred being thrown into a visceral memory he did not want to relive. Her legs took her as fast they could, hurtling passed Molly and toward the lake where the fireworks were supposed to have been set. George was pushing up out of the mud, wild-eyed as he tried to spot his twin. Hermione registered his look of terror and twisted almost as quickly as he had, both of them ending up in the twins’ flat. George raced to Fred’s bedroom while she ran for the bathroom, something in her stomach telling her that’s where he would be. That’s where he’d been before when she’d come for him. It’s where he’d be now.

 

He was sitting in the shower, still covered in mud, hyperventilating with his wand clutched in his white-knuckled fingers. She didn’t wait to see if he’d use it against himself, not trusting his mental state, as she disarmed him wordlessly. She flung both wands into the hallway and climbed in behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shaking frame.

 

“I’ve got him, George! He’s okay!” she yelled, fighting back her own tears as he reached up and tried to remove her arms from him. She gripped tighter and leaned him back into her, stubbornly fighting his urge to flee. He may be bigger, but she was determined to keep him there. Her tiny frame somehow locking him into place.

 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Fred Weasley. Don’t you dare… It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay…” she mumbled, anger and fear registering in her tone in equal measure. She reset her legs more comfortably around him, gripper tighter as he sobbed. She continued to make soothing noises in his ear, trying to convince herself as much as him that everything was alright.

 

“I know, love, I know… it’s just a flashback. The war is over. You lived. We’re all here. Come back to me… Come on, love…” she called to him in the recesses of his mind, recognising for the first time that it was PTSD he was struggling with. It was a wonder the Wizarding world didn’t have anything recorded about it, the Muggle world barely knew anything about it.

 

“Merlin, Fred…” George entered and dropped to his knees alongside the bathtub, yanking Fred’s left arm to him. Hermione peeked over his shoulder and saw the, mercifully, still closed scars and unmarred tattoo right where they should be.

 

“Okay, good.” George turned and slumped with his back against the tub, snaking his arm through and gripping Fred’s hand in his own.

 

“Oh, Fred…I’m so proud of you...” she sobbed into his shoulder, relief filling her that he’d kept himself together enough not to hurt himself.

 

“Should have died. Shouldn’t be here… it’s too hard.” Fred choked out, beginning to rock again.

 

“That’s not true. We can help you, you’re supposed to be here.” Hermione was gripping him with all her might now as he tried to shake his head at her response.

 

“Don’t  you ever say that again!” George squeezed into the tub on the other side of him, wrapping him in a hug that overlapped with Hermione’s. Together, they tried to ground him in the present moment with everything they had, sandwiching him between the two people he was certain loved his brother most in the world.

 

They stayed that way for several long moments as Fred began to breathe normally. His shaking and sobs slowly subsided in the unconscious calming rocking movements of George and Hermione. He sought out their hands and gripped with all his might, he couldn’t stand their pain. The pain he was causing.

 

“Don’t you dare feel guilty.” Hermione and George both bit out suddenly, both sensing the change in the broken man stuck between them.

 

“Blimey, ‘Mione, when did you get so good at reading me?” Fred laughed through a sob.

 

“She’s been around a lot, brother mine, was bound to happen eventually.” George laughed softly in response, pulling back to look at his brother.

 

“I’ve been where you are, Fred, remember?” she whispered over his shoulder. He unconsciously gripped her hand tighter, he didn’t like the thought of her feeling this kind of pain. They sat in silence for a few more moments, no one wanting to address the elephant in the room.

 

“I’m cold,” he mumbled, carefully trying to extricate himself from her. A rush of hot water from the showerhead caused them to tumble backward as George let out a laugh, now standing on the bathmat.

 

“You could use a shower, get that cold mud off you. I’ll make up some hot toddies and something to eat. Everyone else will want to know you’re okay. Sorry about blasting you, Hermione, but you could use a rinse as well. He’s got both of you covered in mud now. Think you can chaperone him for a bit while I settle everything?” George explained.

 

“It’s alright. Give me my wand back so I can dry off?” she carefully made to stand as he handed it to her. He kept Fred’s after a moment’s consideration, closing the door behind him as he exited.

 

“I’ll sit and wait for you to finish, just hand your clothes over.” She started to climb out of the tub, the water had barely splashed her hidden behind Fred.

 

Before she could stop him, he had stood and spun her back into him, his lips crashing onto hers. His hands made quick work of tangling in her hair, pulling out the remaining pins and letting them clatter to the tub. She drew back and grabbed his face, searching his eyes.

 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Fred Weasley,” she shook her head slightly, her eyes combing over his face.

 

“I’m so sorry. It was so overwhelming, the flashbacks and the pain. I didn’t know how to stop it. I just thought… I didn’t really think… I promise I’ll finally make the appointment with Dr. McKinnon,” he started, leaning his forehead against hers.

 

“I know,” she whispered back, running her hands through his wet hair. She gently kissed him as she began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

 

“Don’t… you don’t have to,“ he stopped her hands.

 

“I’m not going to do anything I didn’t already want to. Promise.” She kissed him chastely and stepped back from him a bit more.

 

“If we ever cross that line…”

 

“We can’t uncross it.” She interrupted before he could finish.

 

“It’s not just that. I can’t be a one-off with you. I don’t want to be what makes you numb. I want to make you feel,” his voice was barely a whisper.

 

“If you were going to be a one-off I would have bedded you weeks ago…” she admitted, searching his eyes for permission to touch him.

 

“Okay…” he nodded and took her face in his hands again, kissing her deeply as the water rushed around them.

 

His mind was a mess of confusing emotions. The exhaustion from the attack warring with the sudden need to tear her clothes off and have his way with her.

 

“Fred…” she breathed, stilling him with a hand as she finished unbuttoning his shirt and removing it from his body. Her hands seemed to shake in a way they never had before as she explored his skin.

 

He kissed her forehead as she stood before him, carefully removing her blouse and bra, exposing her top to him somehow more vulnerable than she’d ever been before him. His eyes flitted from her eyes to her lips, to her nakedness. His breath shaky despite the hot water. He pulled her to him again, running his hands gently over the expanse of her back as he kissed her deeply. She fumbled with his belt and the fly of his slacks, finally wordlessly banishing his remaining clothing alongside her own. He chuckled lowly as he ran his hands lower down her frame, squeezing her arse as he lifted her and pinned her to the wall.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, searching the depths of her eyes.

 

“Kiss me again and take me,” she breathed, voice firm and certain.

 

He kissed her again, sliding his tongue easily into her mouth, exploring a little as he shifted their positioning. He eased into her, surprised to find her already ready for him. He groaned as his lips left hers, his confused brain on overload with the sensation of finally being inside her. She gripped his shoulders with her nails, moaning low as he started to move in and out of her.

 

“I’m sorry, Hermione…” he whispered to her as he continued his achingly slow pace.

 

“Don’t be… I’ve wanted this for longer than I can say…” she panted.

 

“Not for this. For everything else.” He grunted as he moved a little quicker, the initial threat of cumming too soon gone.

 

“It’s alright. We’re going to be alright.” She breathed. All he could do was nod as he lost himself in the feel of her, her fingers toying with the ends of his hair as he drove into her. Her pants and soft cries spurring him on.

 

It didn’t take long for his orgasm to build, the weeks of anticipation shooting his stamina all to hell.

 

“I’m not going to last…” he grunted. He felt her nod as he buried his face in her neck, biting and sucking as he pumped on. Her hand slid down between them, touching herself and making her moan in his ear. They came together in a quiet shudder, not the screams and moans he had dreamed of, or the quick mindless rutting she was used to. He carefully set her back on her feet, kissing her again and pulling her shaking form back under the hot water with him.

 

“I love you.” He whispered.

 

“I love you too.” She breathed back.

  
  



	20. Break In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So… we’re going to start seeing more of George in future I think. I’m enjoying writing him and the feedback I’ve gotten suggests you lot like reading about him as part of this story too. Lol Title from Halestorm
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter or its related properties.

 

**Break In**

 

Fred held her close as the water continued to pour over them, feeling her heart beat rapidly against his chest. He carefully ran his fingers through her curls as he leaned down to kiss her again and again, tiny little pecks he couldn’t help. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight as she nuzzled into his chest. 

 

“I know this probably isn’t what you were dreaming of…” she started.

 

“It was better,” he interrupted, kissing the top of her head.

 

“What?” she stepped back from him slightly to see his eyes, confused by the statement.

 

“It was better. Hermione, you’ve seen me at my best and at my worst… not many women would have stuck around for this. And with everything else you have going on in your life… When it came down to it, you knew right where I’d go and you didn’t hesitate to follow. You’ve done that more than once now and I’m not sure I deserve you. No, let me finish.” He put his finger over her lips to shush her when she tried to speak.

 

“To let me touch you at all, to kiss you, to let me pin you against the wall like that after everything you’ve been through and after everything I’ve put you through tonight? You’re still here and you gave me something I would have waited forever for. You’re something else entirely and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make myself worthy of you,” he removed his finger and stared into her eyes, a mixture of awe and reverence boring into her confused whiskey coloured depths. 

 

“You’re an idiot,” she breathed. 

 

“What?” he chuckled nervously. 

 

“You, Fred Weasley, are an idiot. Which isn’t very attractive on a man with your brains… How can you not see that you’re already entirely worthy? You didn’t have to help me pick up the pieces of my life, but you’ve been by my side these last few months regardless. When George and I called you back here from wherever it was your mind went, you came back to us. To me. That makes you more than worthy…” she pushed onto her toes and kissed him gently before she stepped away from him, holding his hands in hers. 

 

“We need to get cleaned up and out of this shower before George suspects something…” she smiled up at him, putting her palm over his mouth to stop him arguing with her assessment. She felt him smirk and saw the little spark of mischief in his eyes, matching the expression she was sure was on her own face. 

 

They washed hurriedly, struggling to keep their hands off each other. They slipped into the hall, fingers intertwined with Fred going first to figure out where George was. Mercifully, the flat appeared to still be empty. They skittered into his room and locked the door behind them when they heard the floo activate. 

 

“I’m back! Gin insisted on coming along, she’ll be here in a few minutes…” George called. 

 

“We’ve both showered, just getting changed!” Fred called back, smirking at Hermione’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 

 

“Of course Ginny would want to make sure everything is okay…” Hermione groaned, feeling slightly guilty that she hadn’t given anyone else a single thought as they’d dallied in the shower.

 

“She’s probably more so checking on you, love,” Fred chuckled, tugging her to him by her towel, his own slung dangerously low on her hips. 

 

“What are you doing?” she giggled at him, recognizing the flash of mischief in his eyes again. 

 

“Come here…” he lifted her suddenly and dropped her on his bed, towel immediately falling away from her.

 

“Fred…” Hermione cautioned, staring daggers at the door. 

 

“Shhh… they’ll hear you…” he teased when the sound of Ginny arriving carried from the next room as he shifted her position and tossed her towel to the floor. 

 

Before she could protest he was kneeling on the floor with his head buried between her legs. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the moan that followed unbidden from her lips. She half-heartedly tried to push him away but found she couldn’t make herself follow through as her hand gripped his hair instead. He licked and prodded, teasing and exploring her sex more thoroughly than he ever had before. She pulled one of his pillows over her face to muffle the moans and sighs that were coming more rapidly as he began to stimulate her clit as he feasted. 

 

“Cum for me, Hermione…” he mumbled into her wetness as he picked up his pace, sliding one finger into her and searching out the spot he knew would drive her over the edge. 

 

With a shudder and a barely contained scream, she was riding out her orgasm with her thighs clenched around him. When she relaxed and released him he chuckled softly and kissed the inside of her thighs before getting back on her feet. 

 

“What in the world was that for?” she panted, catching the clothing he tossed to her from his dresser. 

 

“Do I need a reason?” he smiled at her, pulling a clean pair of shorts on. 

 

“I suppose not…” she trailed off, watching the way his lean muscles moved as he finished dressing. 

 

“Do you intend to spend the rest of the night naked? I’m not exactly complaining, but I don’t know how Georgie or Gin will feel about that…” Fred teased when he saw she was still sitting naked on his bed. 

 

“Right… sorry,” she mumbled as she hurriedly tugged on the clothing he had provided. 

 

She did the best she could with her hair, the pins scattered from The Burrow to the bottom of his bathtub. She was still finger combing it as they emerged from the bedroom and joined the others. 

 

“What in the bleedin’ hell was that?!” Ginny screeched as she ran to her brother and jumped into his arms, the panic and fear obvious in every part of her being. 

 

“I had a bit of an episode… I don’t do so well with sudden explosions these days…” Fred explained, setting his sister back on her feet and shushing at her soothingly. 

 

“We’re owling Dr. McKinnon first thing in the morning to get him in for an appointment. He’s put this off long enough and I think I may know what’s wrong with him…” Hermione offered, accepting two mugs from George and making her way to the couch. 

 

Ginny reluctantly released her brother, settling into one of the armchairs while George took the other. Fred perched next to Hermione, accepting his mug and resting a hand on her thigh. 

 

“What do you think it is?” George pressed, watching the two of them with careful eyes. 

 

“They don’t know much about it in Muggle medicine, but I think I recognised some of the symptoms from stories I heard in school about soldiers coming back from war. They used to call it Shell Shock, but it’s known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now. Essentially, the upset and panic attacks Fred has been experiencing can be quite common after a traumatic event. I honestly don’t know much about it, but I think talking to Dr. McKinnon about it could put us a step in the right direction for working out how to help him feel more stable.” 

 

“Is it treatable?” Ginny asked, catching Hermione’s eye.

 

“Should be. I don’t know what sort of therapy that entails or if there is some sort of medicinal potion that exists that could help. I think, with time and help, Fred has a really good chance of getting something better than what he currently has.” Hermione turned and smiled softly at him when he squeezed her thigh. 

 

“I don’t know, Hermione, seems like he has something pretty great now with you… I’m guessing you two are a thing now?” Ginny teased, relaxing significantly. 

 

“If by ‘thing’ you mean she’s my girlfriend and we’ve told mum and dad, then yes.” Fred laughed, voice sounding more tired than he’d let on before. 

 

“Do you need to lie down?” Hermione asked, trying to hide the concern in her tone. 

 

“You look and sound pretty tired there, brother,” George added on, noticing the way all the energy seemed to have been zapped from his twin. 

 

“I think the adrenaline has worn off now.” Hermione offered, trying to coax him out of his seat. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere…” he grumbled.

 

“You sound like a petulant child,” she laughed at him as he wriggled out of her hold. 

 

“Why not stretch out on the couch here?” Ginny suggested, seeing the way he kept angling himself subconsciously closer to Hermione. 

 

“Fine.” He sighed heavily and did just that, resting his head in Hermione’s lap after a long draw on the toddy George had made him. 

 

“So… why’d it take so long for the adrenaline to wear off then? I was gone for some time…” George asked, eyeing her curiously and gesturing toward his neck. 

 

“Ummm….” Hermione blushed as Fred chuckled beneath her, she’d forgotten about the love bite he’d left on her in the shower. 

 

“You didn’t…” Ginny’s eyes went wide as she clapped and bounced in her seat. 

 

“Well shite,” Hermione mumbled. 

 

“Did you just swear?” George whooped, laughter overtaking any lingering concern he had. 

 

“I swear…” she shot him a dirty look. 

 

“Mostly just been you’re turned on… and apparently when you’ve been caught out for shagging your boyfriend.” Fred offered with a deep chuckle. 

 

“Not helping.” Hermione sighed heavily, cheeks flaming at his nonplussed announcement that they’d shagged while he was supposed to be recovering.

 

“Hey, if it helps, it helps.” George through his hands up with a shake of the head, eyes full of mirth. 

 

“I feel like a terrible person.” She mumbled, burying her face in her hands. 

 

“Bollocks that, Hermione. You’re a fine person. And apparently, Fred really likes you if the first thing he wanted to do after all that was get in your knickers.” Ginny teased. 

 

“There is something horribly wrong with all of you…” Hermione groaned, gulping down a fair amount of her toddy. 

 

“We’re just less repressed than most.” Ginny shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her seat, relaxing as she saw Fred start to drift to sleep. 

 

“Thank you for knowing where he’d go.” George’s voice was low and serious, trying not to wake his twin. 

 

Hermione stared down at the sleeping man, running her fingers carefully through his damp hair. She smiled at him when he didn’t stir, knowing he’d sleep fairly heavily after everything that had happened. If he was lucky, there would be no nightmares tonight. 

 

“We’ve been together so much these last few months, I don’t think I even really had to think about it. I’ve been here before actually when he’s had trouble…” she admitted, locking eyes with George.

 

“Trouble?” Ginny asked, concern finding its way back into her voice.

 

“Fred has hurt himself a few times, Gin. Thought about offing himself a few times too. Tried it once…” George admitted.

 

“What? How did none of the rest of us know?” Ginny stared at her sleeping sibling with pain in her eyes. 

 

“I was handling it. We were afraid Fred would get put in St. Mungo’s. We’ve joked about having a ward with our name on it, but we’ve no intention of either of us ending up permanent residents there.” George explained, reaching over to grasp his sister’s hand. 

 

“I’ve found a therapist that I see for my own problems. I think she may be able to help Fred too. If she can’t, she may know someone who can.” Hermione looked up from Fred’s sleeping face to lock eyes with Ginny. 

 

“Gin, I promise I’ll take care of him. Fred saved me. Least I can do is help save him.” 

 

“Saved you?” Ginny’s brows knitted together as she studied her friend. 

 

“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you about, but I don’t think tonight is the time. I promise we’ll get together soon and I’ll tell you everything. You just need to trust me, Gin.” Hermione asked her, letting her own exhaustion peek out. 

 

“Okay.” She nodded and watched as Hermione shifted so Fred could better seek out and grasp her hand after several moments of fruitless searching. 

 

“He really cares about you.” She observed, face softening to see the way he seemed to smile in his sleep at Hermione’s touch. 

 

“He does, yeah. And I care about him too.” Hermione smiled back at her, her heart fluttering at the memory of his telling her he loved her earlier in the evening. 

 

“He told you didn’t he?” George smiled wide, pulling her focus away. 

 

“He did. And I told him too.” She blushed lightly, rubbing her thumb affectionately over the back of Fred’s hand. 

 

“Wait… didn’t you just start seeing each other?” Ginny leaned forward in suspicion. 

 

“They’ve been dancing around it for a while, little sister. Though I think it really started on our birthday…” George explained with a grin. 

 

“You are full of secrets. The two of you.” Ginny shook her head in amazement, standing up and bringing her empty mug to the kitchen. 

 

“I’m going to go back and reassure mum and dad everything is okay here. You might want to consider coming ‘round tomorrow again so she can see you all and ease her own mind. You know she’ll worry until she’s laid eyes on you again…” Ginny sighed, crossing the room and giving Hermione and Fred pecks on the cheek. After a quick hug with George, she left through the floo. 

 

“I’m going to disable it for the night, except for calls. Just on the off chance mum gets it in her head she needs to rush over here,” 

 

“George…” Hermione called after him when he made to leave the room completely after fiddling with the floo. 

 

“Hmmm?” he asked, pausing next to her on the couch. 

 

“I really do love him, you know? This isn’t some sort of rebound thing or a game. Losing him… I couldn’t even consider it.” 

 

“I know, Hermione.” George gave her shoulder a squeeze and kissed her forehead as he dimmed the lights and left the room. She noticed he’d left Fred’s wand on the coffee table, having decided he was safe now. 

 

* * *

 

Fred woke with every part of him aching, as if everything had tensed all at once and slowly released. As his mind came into focus he remembered what had happened and gave a little groan. 

 

“‘Mione?” he called, rolling over and realising he was asleep on her thing.

 

“Hmm?” she responded in her sleep, barely stirring. 

 

“Come on, love,” he spotted his wand and tucked it into his pyjama pocket before carefully gathering Hermione into his arms and carrying her back to his room. 

 

The time on his alarm read 3 a.m. After all the drama of the evening, he didn’t have the heart to wake him. He slid her beneath the blankets before tucking himself in behind her, wrapping her in his arms. He breathed in the scent of her, marveling that the woman in his arms could love him as broken as he was. He thought he heard her sigh as she snuggled closer to him, the little bit of tension in her form releasing. He kissed the back of her head as he settled himself into the pillows to sleep. 

 

Several hours later, Hermione stirred to the sound of birds chirping somewhere in the distance. She yawned and cuddled into the warmth behind her, slowly registering she was now in Fred’s bed. His familiar scent filled her lungs and she smiled to herself, even after all he’d experienced he hadn’t woken her to move to his room. She felt his arms tighten around her and wondered if he was awake or just reacting to her slight movements. 

 

“I’m awake,” he mumbled into her hair, sending tingles down her spine as he read her mind. 

 

“Go back to sleep, it’s early yet,” she whispered, turning herself in his embrace to being them face to face. 

 

He sleepily kissed her before settling back and staring at her with slightly out of focus eyes. 

 

“You know last night when you said you and George called me back?” 

 

“Mmmhmm,” she gently caressed his cheek with her fingers, wondering what half-asleep conversation he was trying to have at six in the morning. 

 

“It was just your voice I heard. Like an echo leading me back home in the darkness. I just wanted you to know that. It’s you that pulls me back without a second thought.” 

 

“Fred…” she breathed, unsure how to respond. 

 

“You’re the one that best knows my heart now, Hermione. You’ve broken through the walls I’d built around myself after the war. No one has read me as easily as you besides George. You really are amazing…” he whispered, closing the distance and kissing her deeply. 

 

She let him roll on top of her, lips dancing together in the early morning light. She couldn’t help but consider how, somehow, their broken pieces seemed to fit together. There was no sugar coating or hiding their flawed parts after everything they’d shared. This man was either going to be her forever or the most reckless mistake she’d ever made. She wasn’t sure which version scared her more. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Labyrinth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978498) by [woodfloor_phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodfloor_phoenix/pseuds/woodfloor_phoenix)




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